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LADY BARBARITY 


A ROMANCE 


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BY 


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AUTHOR OF MISTRESS DOROTHY MARVIN 
AND FIERCEHEART, THE SOLDIER 



NEW YORK 

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LADY BARBARITY 


A ROMANCE 


BY 

J. C.^SNAITH 

AUTHOR OF MISTRESS DO^IOTHY MARVIN 
AND FIERCEHEART, THE SOLDIER 




NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


.31281 

Copyright, 1898, 1899, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 


All rights reserved. 


■ ■^vvo cfiBiirs »)£o:;iv£Q. 





MAY 9 









CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. — Deplores the scarcity of men 

II. — The rebel appears .... 

III. — The rebel disappears 

IV. — Of an odd passage in the meadow 

V. — I MIX in the high political . 

VI. — I continue my night adventures , 

VII. — The spirit of the woods 

VIII. — In which the hero is found to be a per- 
son OF no descent whatever 

IX. — Of the monstrous behaviour of Miss True 

X. — I PLAY Catherine to Mr. Dare’s Petruchio 

XI. — I undergo an ordeal ; I play with a fire . 

XII. — I defy dear Lady Grimstone 

XIII. — I DISPLAY my infinite RESOURCES 

XIV. — In which the Captain’s wit becomes a 

RIVAL OF MY OWN 

XV. — The Captain trumps my trick 

XVI. — In WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON 

XVII. — More alarums and excursions 
XVIII. — In WHICH the Captain’s comedy is played . 
XIX. — I SUFFER great ADVERSITY . . . . 

XX. — I speak with the celebrated Mr. Snark . 

XXL — I come to Tyburn tree 

Epilogue .... . . . 


PAGE 

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53 

66 

80 

106 

118 

135 

154 

171 

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204 

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247 

258 

272 

286 

300 

315 

331 


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>.. V. 


LADY BARBARITY 


CHAPTER I. 

DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. 

To deny that I am an absurdly handsome being 
would be an affectation. Besides, if I did deny it, 
my face and shape are always present to reprove 
me. Some women I know — ^we call each other 
friends — who happen to possess an eyebrow, an 
elbow, an impertinence, a simper, or any other 
thing that is observable, I have seen to cast their 
eyes down at the compliment, and try to look so 
modest too, that one could tell quite easily that 
this missish diffidence was a piece of art since it 
sat so consciously upon ^em, it could not possibly 
be nature. But furnished as I am with a whole 
artillery of charms, sure they need no adventitious 
blushes for their advertisement; indeed, they are 
so greatly and variously sung that it is quite a 
common thing for the poets to make an ode or 
sonnet of ’em every night, and a ballad every morn- 
ing. The late poor little Mr. Pope was so occu- 
pied at times in comparing my eyes to Jupiter, 
or the evening star that I was fain to correct him 


2 


LADY BARBARITY. 


for ’t, on the pretext that the heavenly bodies might 
not like it, they being such exalted things, whilst 
my Lady Barbarity was but a humble creature in 
a petticoat. Therefore if you would know the 
graces of my person I must refer you to the poets 
of the age; but if you would seek the graces of 
my mind, in this book you shall discover them, for 
I could not make it wittier if I tried. I have heard 
the young beaux speak of certain women of their 
acquaintancy as being as justly celebrated for their 
wit as for their beauty, but have yet to hear the old 
ones say this, since they know that wit and beauty 
is as rare a combination as is loveliness and mod- 
esty. This book will tell you, then, that my wit 
is in proportion to my modesty. 

I returned from town with a hundred triumphs, 
but my heart intact. The whirl of fashion had 
palled upon me for a season. I was weary of the 
fume I had created in St. James’s and the Mall, 
and I retired to my northern home in the late 
January of ’46. Sweet High Cleeby, cradle of my 
joyous girlhood, home of romance and these strange 
events I now relate, let me mention you with rev- 
erence and love. Yet our ancestral seat is a cold 
and sombre place enough, wrapped in ivy and gray 
ghostliness. The manor is folded in on every side 
by a shivering gloom of woods, and in winter you 
can hear them cry in company with those uneasy 
souls that make our casements rattle. Tis dreary 
as November with its weed-grown moat; its caw- 
ing rooks; its quaint gables of Elizabeth; and 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. 


3 


its sixteenth-century countenance, crumbling and 
grim. Besides, it occupies a most solitary spot on 
the bare bosom of the moors, many a mile from 
human habitation, a forsaken house indeed where 
in the winter time rude blasts and the wind-beaten 
birds are its customary visitors. But the brisk 
north gales that fling the leaves about it, and scream 
among the chimneys late at night, had no sooner 
whipped my cheeks than my blood suddenly woke 
up and I began to rejoice in my return. The morn- 
ing after my arrival, when I carried crumbs to the 
lawn in the hope of an early robin, a frost-breath 
stung my lips, and at the first bite of it, sure me- 
thinks I am tasting life at last. Ten months had 
I been regaled in town with the cream of every- 
thing that is ; but it seemed that I must resort to my 
dear despised old Cleeby for those keen airs that 
keep the pulses vigorous. London is fine comedy, 
but in ten months the incomparable Mr. Congreve 
loses his savour, even for a sinner. Ombre was 
indeed a lively game; the play adorable; Vauxhall 
entertaining; wholesale conquest most appetising 
to feed one’s vanity upon, while to be the toast of 
the year was what not even the psalm-book of my 
dearest Prue would venture to disdain. To be 
courted, flattered, and applauded by every waist- 
coat west of Temple Bar, beginning with the 

K g’s, was to become a mark for envy, and yet 

to stand superior to it in oneself. But now I was 
tiring of playing '' Lady Barbarity ” to coats and 
wigs, and silver-buckled shoes. This is the name 


4 


LADY BARBARITY. 


the beaux had dubbed me, “ Because ” said they, 
“ you are so cruel.” 

It is true that I wore a claw. And if I occasion- 
ally used it, well, my endurance was abominably 
tried, and I will confess that mine is not the most 
patient temper in the world. The truth is that I 
was very bitter, having sought ten months in Lon- 
don for a Man, when the pink of England was as- 
sembled there, and had had to come away without 
having found so rare a creature. I had encountered 
princes, but the powder in their wigs, and buckles 
of their shoes were the most imposing parts of 
their individuality. I had looked on lesser gen- 
tlemen, but the correct manner in which they made 
a leg was the only test you might put upon their 
characters. I congratulate myself, however, that I 
made some little havoc with these suits of clothes. 
Therefore, Barbara became Barbarity, and I sus- 
tained this parody as fully as I could. They said 
I was born without a heart. Having gaily tried to 
prove to them how sound this theory was, I pur- 
chased the choicest string of pearls and the most 
delicate box of bonbons money could obtain, and 
returned to dear High Cleeby, January 22d, 1746, 
with my aunt, the dowager, in a yellow-coloured 
chaise. 

The following morning I went to pay my devoir 
to my lord, who took his chocolate at eleven o’clock 
in his private chamber. Now I have always said 
that the Earl, my papa, was the very pattern of his 
age. He was polished to that degree that he 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. 


5 


seemed a mirror to reflect the graces of his person 
and his mind. Lord knows! in all his life ’twas 
little enough he said, and perhaps still less he did. 
There is not a deed of his that is important; nor 
hath he left a solitary phrase or sentiment in which 
his memory may be embalmed. ’Twas ill-bred, he 
used to say, for a man to endeavour to outshine his 
fellows, and to step out of the throng that is his 
equal in manners and in birth. And indeed he did 
not try; but, in spite of that, I am sure he was one 
of the most considerable persons of his time by 
virtue of the very things he did not do, and the 
speeches that he did not utter. It was his privilege, 
or his art perhaps, to win the reputation of a high 
intelligence, not because he had one, but because 
it was a point with him to keenly appreciate its 
exercise in those who were so liberally furnished. 
I found him this morning seated at the fire, sip- 
ping his chocolate from a low table at his side, and 
one foot was tucked up on a stool and bandaged 
for the gout as usual. On my entrance, though, 
and despite his complicated posture, he rose at once, 
and bowing as deeply as though I were the Queen, 
implored me to confer the honour of my person on 
his chair, and limped across the rug to procure 
another for himself. When we were seated and 
the Earl fixed his glasses on, for he was very near- 
sighted at this time, he quizzed me for at least a 
quarter of a minute, ere he said : 

Why, Bab, I think you are getting very hand- 
some.” 


6 


LADY BARBARITY. 


I admitted that I was. 

“ And do you know that I have heard such a 
tale of you from town, my pretty lady? You have 
turned the heads of all the men, I understand.’^ 

“Men!” said I, “suits of clothes, papa, and 
periwigs ! ” 

“ Well, well,” says he, in his tender tone, and 
bowing, “ let us deal gently with their lapses. ’Tis 
a sufficient punishment for any man. I’m sure, to 
be stricken with your poor opinion. But listen, 
child, for I have something serious to say.” 

Listen I did, you can be certain, for though I 
had known my papa, the Earl, for a considerable 
time, ’twas the first occasion that I had heard him 
mention serious matters. And as I pondered on 
the nature of the surprise he had in store, my eyes 
fell upon an open book, beside his tray of choco- 
late. It was a Bible. This caused me to look the 
more keenly at the Earl, and I saw that in ten 
months ten years had been laid upon his counte- 
nance. Even his powder could not hide its seams 
and wrinkles now. Crow’s feet had gathered un- 
derneath his eyes, and his padded shoulders were 
taken with a droop that left his stately coat in 
creases. 

“ If I exercise great care,” says he, with a bland 
deliberation, “ old Paradise assures me that I yet 
have time to set my temporal affairs in order. 
And you, my dearest Bab, being chief part of ’em, 
I thought it well to mention this immediately to 
you. As for my spiritual affairs, old Paradise is 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. 


7 


positive that my soul is of so peculiar a colour that 
he recommends it to be scrubbed without delay. 
Thus I am taking the proper steps, you see.” 

He laid his hand upon the Bible. 

“ Tis no secret, my dearest Bab,” he said, “ that 
Robert John, fifth Earl, your, papa, never was an 
anchorite. He hath ta’en his fill of pleasure. He 
hath played his hazard, and with a zest both late 
and early; but now the candles sink, you see, and 
I believe theyVe called the carriage.” Again he 
laid his hand upon the Bible. 

’Twas a very solemn moment, and his lord- 
ship’s words had plunged me in the deepest grief, 
but when he laid his hand upon that Testament a 
second time, it was as much as I could do to wear 
a decent gravity. For he was a very old barbar- 
ian. 

“ You see, child,” he continued, “ that many 
years ago I took a professional opinion on this 
point. The Reverend Joseph Tooley, chaplain to 
the late lord, your grandpapa (I never felt the need 
for one myself), was always confident that there 
was hope for a sinner who repented. He used to 
say that he considered this saving clause a very 
capital idea on the part of the Almighty, as it per- 
mitted a certain degree of license in our generous 
youth. In fact, I can safely say that in my case it 
has been a decided boon, for my blood appears to be 
of a quality that will not cool as readily as another’s ; 
indeed, it hath retained its youthful ardours to quite 
a middle age. Highly inconvenient for Robert 


8 


LADY BARBARITY. 


John, fifth Earl, I can assure you, child, but for 
this most admirable foresight on the part of 
heaven.” The faint smile that went curling round 
the condemned man’s mouth was delicious to per- 
ceive. “ For my idea has ever been to run my 
course and then repent. Well, I have now run my 
course, therefore let us see about repentance. I 
am about to moderate my port, and resign the 
pleasures of the table. My best stories I shall re- 
frain from telling, and confine myself to those that 
would regale a bishop’s lady. But I want you, my 
charming Bab, to be very affectionate and kind 
towards your poor old papa; be fiTial, my love — ex- 
tremely filial, for I will dispense — I’ve sworn to do 
it — with the lavish favours your angelic sex have 
always been so eager to bestow upon me. Yes, for 
my soul’s sake I must forbid ’em. But lord, what 
a fortitude I shall require 1 ” This ancient heathen 
lifted up his eyes and sighed most killingly. “ I 
am reading two chapters of the Bible daily, and I 
have also engaged a private chaplain, who starts 
his duties here on Monday week. But I think I’d 
better tell your ladyship ” — with a wicked twinkle 
— “ that he is fifty if he’s a day, and with no per- 
sonal graces to recommend him. I was very care- 
ful on those points. For a young and comely par- 
son where there’s daughters means invariably 
mesalliance^ and I prefer to risk a permanent de- 
rangement in my soul than a mesalliance in my 
family.” 

You appear, my lord,” says I, flashing at him, 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. 


9 

“ to entertain a singularly high opinion of my pride, 
to say nothing of my sense.’" 

“ Tut, my dear person, tut! ” says his lordship, 
wagging a yellow finger at me. “ I’ve made a life- 
time’s study of you dear creatures, and I know. 
You can no more resist an unctuous and insidious 
boy in bands and cassock than your tender old 
papa can resist a pair of eyes. Oh, I’ve seen it, 
child, seen it in a dozen cases — damn fine women 
tool And their deterioration has been tragical. 
Faith, a parson where there’s women is a most de- 
moralising thing in nature.” 

’Pon my soul, my lord,” says I, in my court- 
liest manner, and adroitly misreading the opinion 
he expressed, “ your own case is quite sufficient 
to destroy that theory, for you, my lord, are not 
the least ecclesiastical.” 

Faith, that’s true,” says he, and the old dog 
positively blushed with pleasure ; but had it been 
necessary for me to earn a livelihood I should cer- 
tainly have gone into the Church. And while we 
are on matters theological I might say that I do be- 
lieve that these strict practices will cheat Monsieur 
le Diable of my soul, as was my hope from the be- 
ginning.” 

At this my lord could say no more. He burst 
into such a peal of laughter at his lifelong agility 
in this affair that the tears stepped from his eyes 
and turned the powder on his cheeks to paste. 

Now I ever had allowed that the Earl, my papa, 
was the greatest man of my acquaintance. But it 


lO 


LADY BARBARITY. 


was not until this hour that I gauged the whole 
force and tenacity of his character. That a man 
should accept the sentence of his death so calmly, 
and thereupon prepare so properly to utilise his few 
remaining days in correcting the errors of his life, 
showed the depth of wisdom that was in his spirit. 
For he whose worldly business had been diplomacy 
now placed its particular genius at the service of 
his soul, that he might strike a bargain, as it were, 
between Heaven and the Prince of Darkness as to 
its eternal dwelling place. 

Howbeit this is simply of myself,” says he, 
when recovered of his mirth, “ and it is of you, 
child, that I desire to speak. Before I go 1 must 
see you reasonably wed; beauty and high blood 
should be broken in and harnessed early, else it is 
prone to flick its heels and run away. Now, Bab, 
you have all the kingdom at your feet, they tell 
me. ’Tis a propitious hour; seize it, therefore, and 
make yourself a duchess with a hundred thousand 
pound. And farther, you have ever been my con- 
stant care, my pretty Bab, and I shall not be con- 
tent unless I leave you at your ease.” 

This consideration touched me. 

“ My lord,” says I, “ I thank you for these ten- 
der thoughts. I fear I must die a spinster, though. 
For I will not wed a clothes-pole, I will not wed a 
snuff-box. A Man is as scarce, I vow, as the Phi- 
losopher’s Stone. So you must picture me, papa, 
an old maid of vinegar aspect, whose life is com- 
pounded of the nursing of cats and the brewing of 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. n 

caudles. Conceive your brilliant Bab, the hand- 
somest wretch in the realm, who hath all the king- 
dom kissing her satin shoe, reduced to this in her 
later years! For I’ll warrant me there is not a 
Man in London.” 

“ Why, what is this? ” cries out my lord, his eye- 
brows rising in surprise. “ Is there not the Duke 

of , with his town and country houses? Is he 

not a Privy Councillor? Hath he not the Garter? 
Hath he not a rent-roll, and would he not make a 
duchess of you any day you please? ” 

“ My lord,” I answered, sadly, “ I am unhappily 
cursed with a keen nose for a fool.” 

He looked at me and smiled. 

“ He is a duke, my dear. But madam is a wom- 
an, therefore let me not attempt to understand her. 

But there is the Earl of H , and the Hon. A , 

and Mr. W ; indeed, every bachelor of station, 

lands, and pedigree in town.” 

“ Of which I am bitterly aware,” I sighed. 
“ But I require a man, my lord, not a name and 
a suit of clothes.” 

The delightful old barbarian did not apprehend 
my meaning, I am sure, but the secret of his repu- 
tation lay in the fact that he never let the world 
know that there was a subject in earth or heaven 
that he did not understand. When a topic travelled 
beyond the dominion of his mind, he preserved a 
melancholy silence, and contrived to appear as 
though the thing was too trivial to occupy his 
thoughts. But he changed the conversation at the 


12 


LADY BARBARITY. 


earliest opportunity. The word ‘‘ love ” was to him 
the most mysterious monosyllable in the world. 
Wherefore he proceeded to speak about my bills, 
and said, in his charming way, that he did not mind 
how much they did amount to if I exhibited a mas- 
tery in the art of spending with grace and elegance. 

“ Now I see there is a yellow chaise,” said he, 
“ and a yellow chaise I consider a trifle bourgeois, 
although my taste is perhaps a thought severe. A 
purple chaise, or vermilion even, hath a certain 
reticence and dignity, but yellow is enough to star- 
tle all the town.” 

“ True, papa,” says I with animation, “ and I 
chose it for that purpose. I adore display; I must 
be looked at twice; I must perish, I suppose, if 
the fops did not quiz me in the most monstrous 
manner every time I took the Mall. When I die, 
let it be done to slow music, and I mean to have 
a funeral at the Abbey if I can. Why, do you 
know, sir, that the first country town I entered in 
this wondrous chaise, a tale was got about that 
the Empress of All the Russias had arrived? Twas 
a moment in my life I can assure you when I danced 
lightly from that vehicle, and threw smiles to the 
mob that kept the entrance to the inn. Pomp and 
circumstance are the blood of me. Dress me in 
ermine that I may become a show, and provoke 
huzzahs in every city! And if I must have a man, 
my lord, let him be a person of character and ideas 
to cheer me when Pm weary.” I ended in a peal 
of mirth. 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN. 


13 


‘‘ Hum ! character and ideas.” My lord scratched 
his chin with a face of comical perplexity. “ Would 
not position and a reasonable pin-money be still 
more apposite to your case, my dearest person? 
And anyway,” says he, “ may I be in my grave ere 
my daughter Bab marries anywise beneath her. 
Character and ideas ! ” 

Amen to that, my lord ! ” cries I, with a deal 
of fervour. 

Thereupon I left the Earl to his light reflection 
and his piety. My heart was heavy with the knowl- 
edge of his approaching end; but there was still 
a period in which I might enjoy the inimitable 
charm of his society. Passing from his chamber, 
I encountered my aunt upon the stairs. The brisk- 
ness of her step, and the animation of her face, 
alike surprised me, as the dowager usually required 
nothing short of a cow, a mouse, or a suspicion 
of unorthodoxy to arouse her. 

“ Do not delay me, Barbara,” she said, brushing 
past me. “ I must see the Earl immediately.” 

I did not venture to impede her with my curios- 
ity, for my aunt is a dreadful engine when once she 
is set in motion. 

Coming to the foot of the stairs, however, I 
chanced to stray into the reception parlour to find 
a comfit box I had mislaid. 

“ My dear Lady Barbara! ” a great voice hailed 
me, as soon as my face had appeared within the 
door. 

Raising my eyes I saw that I was in the presence 


H 


LADY BARBARITY. 


of a town acquaintance, Captain Grantley. A look 
assured me that he was here, not in the social 
capacity of a friend, but in pursuance of his military 
duties, inasmuch that he wore the red coat of his 
regiment, and was furnshed with a full accoutre- 
ment. Greetings exchanged, he said: “ Lady Bar- 
bara, I am here to interview the Earl on a matter 
of some gravity. Nothing less, in fact, thaif that 
the Marshal at Newcastle is transmitting one of the 
prisoners lately ta’en, and a very dangerous and 
important rebel, to Newgate, and as the straightest 
way is across your moors, I am come here to gain 
the Earl’s permission to billet eight men and horses 
on him for this evening.” 

“ I have no doubt he will grant it readily,” says 
I, “ for are we not aware, my dear Captain, that 
my papa, the Earl, is the most hopeless Hanoverian 
in the world? ” 

“ Yet permit me to say, madam,” says the Cap- 
tain, “ that a lady of your sense and penetration I 
should judge to be quite as hopelessly correct as 
is her father.” 

’Twas a soldier’s way of turning compliments, 
you will observe, and of so coarse and ill-contrived 
a nature that I could not resist a reprimand. 

’Tis the most palpable mistake, sir,” I replied ; 
for utterly as Captain Grantley and my father are 
in the right, I, sir, am as utterly in error. For, 
Captain, I would have you know that I am a very 
rebel, and have shed many a tear for Charlie.” 

I smartly beat the carpet with my boot, and gave 


DEPLORES THE SCARCITY OF MEN 


15 


my head its most indignant altitude. This exhibi- 
tion of sentiment was but the fruit of my natural 
contrariety however, as I certainly never had shed 
a tear for Charlie, and was not likely to. Indeed, 
I had not a care for politics whatever, and for my 
life could not have said whether Sir Robert Walpole 
was a Tory or a Whig. But it amused me mightily 
to see the deep dismay that overtook the Captain, 
while he tried to gauge the magnitude of the error 
of which I had attainted him so falsely. And ob- 
serving how tenderly my rebuke was felt, I was led 
to recall some town matters in connection with this 
gentleman. And considering all things appertain- 
ing to the Captain’s case, it was not remarkable that 
I should arrive at the conclusion that though it 
might be true enough that he was ostensibly ar- 
ranging for the billets of men and horses for the 
night, he had also made this business the occasion 
of a visit to Barbara Gossiter, to whom he had been 
upon his knees in a London drawing-room. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE REBEL APPEARS. 

We continued to talk with aimless propriety, 
until the Captain fetched suddenly so huge a sigh 
out of the recesses of his waistcoat that it called for 
an heroic repression of myself to wear a proper 
gravity of countenance. 

Sir, you are not unwell, I hope,'^ says I, with 
perturbation. 

He saw at once the chance provided for him, 
and laying his hand profoundly on his heart, was 
on the point, I do not doubt, of making one more 
declaration of his undying passion, when the en- 
trance of my aunt curtailed the scene abruptly, and 
robbed me of the entertainment I had planned. 

My aunt conducted the Captain to the Earl, and 
an hour later that officer went forth to his com- 
mander with the permission of my father to lodge 
the soldiers at Cleeby for a night. It was in the 
evening at seven o’clock that the prisoner was 
brought. I did not witness his arrival, as I hap- 
pened to be dressing at that time, yet none the less 
I felt an interest in it, for, to say the least, a real 
live rebel savours of adventures, and those are what 

i6 


THE REBEL APPEARS. 


17 

the tame life of woman seldom can provide. The 
Captain having installed his men in the servants’ 
part, was good enough to come and sup with us, 
and was able in a measure to enliven the tedium of 
that meal. The gentlemen talked politics, of 
course, and I was able to gather from their words 
that the Pretender Charles was already in full 
retreat, and that his army was like to be presently 
scattered on the earth. 

He’ll be flying for his precious life, sir, over 
hill and moor with our redcoats on his heels,” the 
Captain says, with an enthusiasm that made his face 
sparkle in the candle light. And I thought this 
ardour so well adorned him that he appeared to a 
prettier advantage as a soldier than as a man of 
fashion. 

Somehow I could not dismiss a certain interest 
that their military conversation had aroused. Be- 
sides, the present circumstances had a novelty, as 
to-night we were actually involved in the stress 
of war. 

“ A rebel must be a very dangerous person, I 
should fear,” I said ; even the sound of rebel hath 
a spice of daring and the devil in it.” 

Highly dangerous,” says the Captain. 

“ Captain, do you know,” I said, seized with a 
desire, “ that as I have never seen a rebel I should 
dearly like to have a peep at one of these desperate 
creatures. ’Twould be an experience, you know; 
besides, when a fresh species of wild animal is 
caught, all the town is attracted to its cage.” 


i8 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Madam, I would not deny you anything,” 
the Captain bowed, “ but you have only to look 
into the mirror to behold a rebel of. the deepest 
dye.” 

“ But not a dangerous one,” I smiled. 

“ Ah, dear lady,” says the Captain, with one 
hand straying to his heart, “ ’tis only for us men to 
say how dangerous you are.” 

“ Grantley,” says the Earl, my papa — and I wish 
this generation could have seen how elegant he was, 
even in his age — “ if every rebel was as dangerous 
a one as madam is, there would be a change of 
dynasty mighty soon.” 

Afterwards we had piquet together, but weary- 
ing of the game, I reminded the Captain of my wish. 
Without more ado he put me in a hood and cloak, 
the night being dark and keen, and threatening to 
snow, and took me to the prisoner on his arm. We 
bore a lantern with us, otherwise nothing had been 
visible, for the moon had not appeared yet. The 
poor rebel we found reposing on straw in one of 
the stables, but with even less of comfort than is 
allowed to horses. One of the troopers had mount- 
ed guard outside the door, his bayonet fixed, and 
himself leaning on the panel. He saluted us, and 
looked as cordial as his rank allowed; but his strict 
figure, with grim night and naked steel about it, 
sent a shiver through my wraps. You read of war 
in histories, and think it adventurous and fine, but 
when cold bayonet looks upon you from the dark, 
and you know that it is there to hold some defence- 


'lliE REiJEL APPEARS. ig 

less person to his doom, the reality is nothing like 
so happy as the dream. 

The Captain set back the wooden shutter, and 
held the light up high enough for me to peer within. 
There the rebel was, with gyves upon his wrists; 
whilst a rope was passed through the manger-ring, 
and also through his manacles. Thus he was se- 
cured strictly in his prison, but his fetters had 
length enough to permit him to stretch his miser- 
able body on the straw that was mercifully provided. 
He had availed himself of this, and now lay in a 
huddle in it, fast asleep. At the first glance I took 
him to be precisely what he was, a young and hand- 
some lad, moulded slightly with an almost girlish 
tenderness of figure, his countenance of a most 
smooth and fair complexion, without a hair upon it, 
while to read the kind expression of his mien, he 
was, Tm sure, as gentle as a cherubim. 

When the Captain laid the keen light fully on 
him, he was smiling gently in his sleep, and, I 
doubt not, he was dreaming of his mother or his 
lady. 

“ Why, Captain ! ” I exclaimed, with an indig-, 
nant heat that made my companion laugh, “ call 
you this a dangerous rebel? Why, this is but a 
child, and a pretty child withal. ’Tis monstrous, 
Captain, to thus maltreat a boy. And surely, sir, 
you may release the poor lad of these horrid man- 
acles?” 

My voice thus incautiously employed aroused 
the sleeper so immediately that I believe he almost 


20 


LADY BARBARITY. 


caught the import of my speech. At least, he sud- 
denly shook his chains and turned his head to face 
the thread of lantern-light. Our eyes encoun- 
tered, and such a power of honest beauty prevailed 
in his that my brain thrilled with joy and pity for 
their loveliness, and here, for the first time in my 
all-conquering career, my own gaze quailed and 
drooped before another’s. Its owner was but a 
dirty, chained, and tattered rebel, whose throat rose 
bare above his ragged shirt, and whose mop of hair 
seemed never to have known a law for the best 
part of its years; a vagabond, in fact, of no refine- 
ment or propriety, yet when his bright, brave eyes 
leapt into mine like flame, the sympathetic tears 
gushed from me, and I was fain to turn away. The 
Captain divined my agitation, perhaps because my 
shoulders shook, or perchance he saw my cheeks 
a-glistening, for he let the lantern down and led me 
to the house in a most respectful silence. Yet every 
step we traversed in the darkness, the star-like 
look of that unhappy lad was making havoc of my 
heart. 

When we were returned to the brightness of the 
candles, and I had thrown aside my cloak and hood 
and had recommenced the game, I turned towards 
the Captain to enquire: 

Captain, I suppose there will be many years 
of prison for that poor lad? ” 

“ Dear me, no! ” the Captain said; “ he is to be 
interrogated at the Tower, which will merely take 
a day or two, and then it’s Tyburn Tree.” 


THE REBEL APPEARS. 


21 


“ What, they mean to hang him ? says I, in 
horror. 

Yes, to hang him,” says the Captain. 

“ But he’s so young,” I said, “ and he looks so 
harmless and so innocent. They will never hang 
him. Captain, surely.” 

“ I think they will,” the Captain said ; “ and 
wherefore should they not? He is a very arrant 
rebel; he has conducted the business of the Prince 
in a most intrepid manner, and he further holds a 
deal of knowledge that the Government have de- 
termined to wring from him if they can.” 

“ Ah me! ” I sighed, “ it is a very cruel thing.” 

For here his lovely glance returned upon me, 
and it made me sad to think of it and his bitter 
doom. And, at least, this lad, even in ignominious 
tatters and captivity, contrived to appear both hand- 
some and impressive, which is a point beyond all 
the fops of London, despite their silks and laces and 
their eternal artifice. 

“ Anyway,” I said, “ this rebel interests me. Cap- 
tain. Come, tell me all about him now. Has he a 
birth, sir?” 

“Not he,” the Captain said; “merely the son 
of a Glasgow baker, or some person of that char- 
acter.” 

The Captain, who had, of course, been born, 
said this with a half triumphant air, as though this 
was a coiip-de- grace, and had, therefore, killed the 
matter. And I will confess that here was a shock 
to the web of romance I was weaving about this 


22 


LADY BARBARITY. 


charming, melancholy lad. Even I, that had a 
more romantic temper than the silliest miss at an 
academy, felt bound to draw the line at the sons of 
bakers. 

“ But at least. Captain,” I persisted with, I sup- 
pose, the tenacity of my sex, “ you can recall some 
purple thread in his disposition or behaviour that 
shall consort with the poetic colour in which my 
mind hath painted him? He must be brave, I’m 
sure? Or virtuous? Or wise? But bravery for 
choice. Captain, for a deed of courage or a noble 
enterprise speaks to the spirit of us women like a 
song. Come, Captain, tell me, he is brave? ” 

“ He is a baker’s son, my Lady Barbara.” 

“ I heard once of a chimney sweeper who em- 
braced death in preference to dishonour,” was my 
rejoinder. “ Must I command you. Captain?” 

“ The whim of madam is the law of every man 
that breathes,” says the soldier, with a not dis- 
creditable agility. “ And as for the courage of 
your rebel, the worst I can say of it is this: he 
hath been told to choose between death and the be- 
trayal of his friends. He hath chosen death.” 

“Bravo!” was the applause I gave the boy; 
“ and now that you have proved this pretty lad to 
be worthy of a thought, I should like his name.” 

“ He is called Anthony Dare,” the Captain said. 

“ A good name, a brave name, and far too good 
to perish at Tyburn in the cart,” says I, whilst I 
am sure my eyes were warmly sparkling. 

The Captain and his lordship laughed at this 


THE REBEL APPEARS. 


23 

fervour in my face, and were good enough to toast 
the dazzling light that was come into it. 

Now in the matter of this rebel certain odd pas- 
sages befell, and I am about to retail the inception 
of them to you. One thing is certain in reviewing 
these very strange affairs from the distance years 
have given them. It is that in 1746, in the full 
meridian of my beauty and renown, my lively spirit 
was in such excess that ’twas out of all proportion 
to my wisdom. A creature whose life is a succes- 
sion of huzzahs hath never a reverend head nor one 
capable of appreciating consequences. Therefore 
you are not to betray surprise when you are told 
that I had no sooner bade my aunt and the gentle- 
men good evening, towards eleven of the clock, than 
I gave the rein to mischief, and set about to have a 
little sport. Every step I ascended to my chamber 
my mind was on that condemned rebel in the stable 
with the gyves upon his wrists. I felt myself utterly 
unable to dismiss the look he had given me, and yet 
was inclined to be piqued about it too. For you 
must understand that his eyes had infringed a right 
possessed by those of Barbara Gossiter alone. But 
the more I thought about this lad the less I could 
endure the idea of what his doom must be. Might 
not an effort be put forth on his behalf? To make 
one might be to extend the life of a fellow creature, 
and also to colour the dull hues of mine own with 
a brisk adventure, for, lord, what a weary existence 
is a woman’s! In the act of turning the lamp up in ^ 
my bedroom I came to a decision, and half a minute 


24 


LADY BARBARITY. 


afterwards, when my maid, Mrs. Polly Emblem, ap- 
peared to unrobe me and to dress my hair, she 
found me dancing round the chamber in pure cheer- 
fulness of heart, and rippling with laughter also, to 
consider how I proposed to cheat and to befool half 
a score right worthy persons, amongst whom were 
Captain Grantley and the Earl, my father. 

“ Let me kiss you, my Emblem of lightness and 
dispatch,” I cried to the mistress of the robes ; “ for 
to-night I am as joyous as a blackbird in a cherry 
tree that hath no business to be there. I am going 
to be in mischief. Emblem,” and to relieve my merry 
feelings I went dancing round the room again. 

Happily or unhappily, sure I know not which, 
this maid of mine was not one of those staid and 
well-trained owls whose years are great allies to 
their virtue, whom so many of my friends affect. 
One of these would perhaps have managed to re- 
strain me from so hazardous a deed. Still, I’m not 
too positive of that, for I have an idea that when 
my Lady Barbarity was giddy with her triumphs 
and good blood few considerations could have held 
her from an act which she at all desired to perform. 
Certainly Mrs. Polly Emblem was not the person 
to impose restraints upon her mistress in the most 
devious employ, being herself the liveliest soubrette 
you would discover this side of the Channel, with a 
laugh that was made of levity, and who was as ripe 
for an adventure as the best. 

The first thing I did was to post Emblem on the 
landing, that she might bring me word as soon as 


THE REBEL APPEARS. 


25 


the candles were out below, and the gentlemen re- 
tired. Meanwhile I made some preparation. I 
stirred the waning fire up, and then went in stealth 
to an adjoining room and procured from a cup- 
board there a kettleful of water, some coffee, and a 
pot wherein to brew it. The water had just begun 
to hiss upon the blaze when Emblem reappeared 
with the information that the lights were out at last, 
and that the gentlemen had ascended to their cham- 
bers. I bade her brew a good decoction, while I 
rummaged several of the drawers in my wardrobe 
to discover a few articles highly imperative to my 
scheme. To begin with I took forth a potion in a 
packet, a powerful sedative that was warranted to 
send anything to sleep; the othef^ consisted of a 
vizard, a hooded cloak, and last, if you please, a 
pistol, balls, and powder. These latter articles I 
know do not usually repose in a lady’s chamber, 
but then my tastes always were of the quaintest 
character, and often formerly, when my life had 
been so tame that its weariness grew almost unen- 
durable, I have taken a ridiculous delight in clean- 
ing and priming this dread weapon with my own 
hands, and speculating on its power with a foolish 
but a fearful joy. Verily idleness is full of strange 
devices. 

Now, Emblem,” says I, when the coffee was 
prepared, “ let me see you put this powder in the 
pot, and as you always were an absent-minded sort 
of wench, ’twere best that you forgot that you had 
done so.” 


26 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Very good, my lady,” Emblem says, with a 
wonderfully sagacious look. And immediately she 
had poured the contents of the packet in the coffee. 
I took up the pot and said, with an air of notable 
severity : 

‘‘ Of course, this coffee is as pure as possible, 
and could not be doctored any way? I think that 
is so. Emblem? ” 

“ Oh! lord yes, ma’am; it is indeed,” cries Em- 
blem the immaculate. 

“ Well,” says I, “ so soon as we can be positive 
that the gentlemen are abed, and at their ease in 
slumber’s lap, the fun shall get afoot.” 

We sat down by the hearth for the thereabouts 
of half an hour, that they might have ample time 
to attain this Elysian state. Later I wrapped the 
admirable Emblem up the very model of a plotter, 
and despatched her to the sentry on guard at the 
stable door, with the compliments of her mistress 
and a pot of coffee, to keep the cold out. 

“ For I’m sure, poor man,” I piously observed, 
“ it must be perishing out there in a frosty, wintry 
night of this sort.” 

It must, indeed, my lady,” Emblem says, with 
the gravity of a church; “ and had I not better wait 
while he drinks it, ma’am, and bring the empty pot 
back? And had I not better put my carpet slip- 
pers on, and steal out carefully and without commit- 
ting the faintest sound when I unbolt the kitchen 
door? ” 

“ Emblem,” cries I, dealing her a light box on 


THE REBEL APPEARS. 


27 

the ears, “ to-night I will discard this darling of a 
gown Tm wearing. To-morrow it is yours.” 

Faith, my Emblem ever was a treasure, if only 
because she was not subject ever to any bother in 
her soul. But when she had gone upon her errand 
to the soldier at the stable door, and I was left alone 
with my designs, for the first time meditation came, 
and a most unwelcome feeling of uneasiness crept 
on me. There was a certain danger in the thing I 
was determined to attempt; but then, I argued, the 
pleasure that any sport affords must primarily 
spring from the risks involved in its pursuit. That 
is unless one is a Puritan. Her greatest enemy has 
never accused my Lady Barbarity of that, however. 
Yet my mind still ran upon that grim guardian of 
the tight-kept rebel, and again I saw the night about 
him, and his fixed bayonet glaring at me through 
the gloom. Then for the second time that evening 
did I convince myself that adventure in the fairy- 
books and Mr. Daniel Defoe is one thing, but that 
at twelve o’clock of a winter’s night their cold and 
black reality is quite another. But here the imps of 
mirth woke up and tickled me, till again I fell 
a-rippling with glee. They proudly showed me 
half-a-score right worthy men nonplussed and 
mocked by the wit of woman. ’Twould make a 
pretty story for the town; and my faith! that was 
a true presentiment. But the long chapter that was 
in the end excited to my dear friends of St. James’s 
I would a’ paid a thousand pounds to have remained 
untold. But just now the mirth of the affair was 


28 


LADY BARBARITY. 


too irresistible, and I laughed all cowardice to scorn. 
Besides, I remembered the wondrous gaze of poor 
Mr. Anthony Dare, that sweetly handsome youth, 
that desperate rebel, that chained and tattered cap- 
tive, whose fate was to be a dreadful death upon the 
Tree. I remembered him, and although pity is the 
name that I resolutely refuse to have writ down as 
the motive for this merry plot, as all the world 
knows that I never had a heart in which to kindle 
it; but remembering that lad, I say, straight had 
I done with indecision, for I sprang up smartly, 
with a rude word for the King. And I make bold 
to declare that she who pulled the blinds aside an 
instant later to gaze into the night was the most de- 
termined rebel that ever grinned through hemp. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 

I SAW at once that the moon was come, but for 
my enterprise’s sake I wished it absent. Here she 
was, however, framed in cloud, with a star or two 
about her, and a very tell-tale eye. The roof of 
the woods freezing across the park was a mass of 
dusky silver that her beams had thrown, and so bold 
and sharp her glow was on every twig that slept 
that individual things stood forth and stared at me, 
and seemed endowed with the hue of noon in the 
middle of the night. And I am sure the hour was 
laid for an adventure, and crying for a deed. The 
light of the moon was made of pale romance, and 
bade the princess bare her casement, and the min- 
strel on the sward to sing. This was the disposition 
of my thoughts as I looked out of the window, and 
I was so captive to their poetry that a soft touch 
upon my shoulder startled me as greatly as a blow. 
I glanced round quickly and found Emblem at my 
side. 

He hath drained it to the dregs, my lady,” says 
she, brandishing the coffee-pot. 

Faith ! you startled me,” says I. ‘‘ Emblem, 
your foot is lighter than a cat’s.” 


29 


30 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ ’Tis almighty cold under the moon, ma’am,” 
says the maid, “ and you would be well advised, I 
think, to put a stouter garment on.” 

“ Ha! sly minx,” says I, “ you fear that my em- 
ployment will be the enemy of soft, white satin, and 
that it may take a soil or two.” 

I followed her advice, however, and got into a 
winter dress, and sent her meanwhile to seek a file 
in the region of the kitchen. This was a tool I had 
forgot, but highly necessary, you will believe, when 
a pair of stout handcuffs are to be encountered. I 
dressed and cloaked myself with care, and pulled 
two pairs of stockings on, for slippers on a frosty 
night are the tenderest protection. I had just 
perched the vizard on my nose when Emblem 
brought the file. I picked the pistol up, set it at 
her head, and made her deliver up that file with a 
degree of instancy which hath not been excelled by 
the famous Jerry Jones, of Bagshot. Thereupon 
I loaded that dark weapon, pocketed its adjuncts, 
and, leaving the faithful Emblem white and trem- 
bling with the excitement of the hour, set out upon 
a deed whose inception was so simple, yet whose 
complex development was destined to commit a 
great havoc in the lives of several, and to change 
entirely the current of my own. 

Had I foreseen these ultimate occurrences, I 
should not have set out at one o’clock of winter 
moonlight in the spirit of an urchin on a holiday. 
Should I have set out at all? Eaith! I cannot say, 
for the more beautiful a woman is the less restraint 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


31 


hath reason on her. But this Fm sure of: had my 
Lady Barbarity only known the strange form the 
business of that night was to take for herself and 
others, she had certainly said her prayers before 
she embarked upon it. 

Two clocks were telling the hour together in 
the hall when I rode down the broad backs of the 
bannisters and attained the mat below without a 
sound, this seeming the quietest and most expedi- 
tious way of overcoming the obstinacy of stairs, 
who creak at no time no louder than at one o’clock 
at night — that is, unless it is at two. I glided across 
the tiles and entered the servants’ part without so 
much as waking up a beetle, such is the virtue that 
resides in dainty slippers, wedded to dainty toes. 
Emblem had left one of the scullery doors unbarred, 
and through this I stole forth to the stable. The 
air was still as any spectre, and I observed its sacred 
calm so implicitly that a fox actually stalked across 
the yard, not twenty paces off, with his nose upon 
the ground, inquiring for poultry. 

I was much too wise to take the stable from the 
front, but by dodging round divers of the kitchen 
offices, I was able to outflank it, and could peep 
upon the sentry by the door under cover of a friend- 
ly wall. Every beam of moonlight seemed gathered 
on that bayonet. When that naked steel looked at 
me thus, and seemed to say “ Come on if you dare! ” 
the spirit of my mischief was pretty badly dashed, 
and began to seek a pretext to retire. There was 
Emblem, though, and who shall endure the secret 


32 


LADY BARBARITY. 


laughter of her maid? But while I paused, a gentle 
snore crept out into the frost and soon was min- 
gling with my ears. The coffee had performed. 
In an instant what a lion I became! How promptly 
I stepped up to the sentry’s side and took that 
bayonet from him, for I could not be myself so long 
as that blade menaced me. I ran across the yard 
and cast it in an ashpit — ’twas the utmost indig- 
nity I could bestow upon that weapon — and counted 
the feat a triumph for wit over insolence and power. 
Mr. Sentry had been drugged so heavily and thor- 
oughly that he was now sleeping more deeply than 
the earth, as I doubt whether even morning would 
have waked him. The posture of his body, though, 
was most unfriendly to the scheme I had prepared. 
His head was jammed in the top corner against 
one door post, whilst his heels resided in the bot- 
tom corner of the other. The misfortune was that 
his ribs were in such a situation that they covered 
up the keyhole. Now unless I could obtain a fair 
access to that, my labours were in vain. But when 
engaged on a dangerous escapade, ’tis a sterile mind 
that lacks for an expedient. Therefore I gave back 
a yard or two into the stable’s shadow, and look- 
ing up, saw precisely what I had hoped to find. 
Our stables I had remembered were of two storeys, 
the second chamber being an open hayloft, which 
was only covered by the roof, the sides being com- 
posed of rails alone, and set wide enough apart for 
persons of an ordinary stature to squeeze through 
with ease. How to reach it was the problem, as 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


33 


the floor of it was suspended ten feet from the 
ground. It did not remain a problem long, for I 
stole to a disused coach house a little distance off, 
and groped among the odds and ends there col- 
lected for a ladder. The brightness of the moon 
permitted me to find without the least ado a short 
one, exactly corresponding to my needs. I bore it 
to the prison, laid it against the coping stone of 
the second storey, and hopped thereon as lightly 
as a robin hops on rime. I was soon at the top 
and through the bars, and battling with the armies 
of hay and straw assembled on the other side, that 
strove with might to thrust out all intruders. This 
one was rather more than they could manage 
though. Having made my footing good inside the 
loft, I began to search for one of those trap-doors 
that are employed to push the fodder through into 
the mangers underneath. This involved a deal of 
patient exploration, for it was very little light that 
penetrated this encumbered place. But I was now 
so eager and so confident that I was fit for deeds 
of every character, and I do not doubt at all that 
had my task been to find a lost needle amongst 
this endless mass of provender, I should have dis- 
covered it in less than half an hour. Thus coming 
at last in the course of my search to a spot well 
cleared of straw, one of my slippers trod upon an 
iron ring, and, much as I regretted the pain that 
act involved, I rejoiced the more, since I had stum- 
bled on the trap. Getting my fingers to this ring, 
I tugged the door up, and then prepared to scram- 


34 


LADY BARBARITY. 


ble through the hole into the manger. I calculated 
that the distance I had to make was a comparatively 
short one. However, I was compelled to be cau- 
tious in the matter of the hayrack, as should I be- 
come involved in cages of that sort, I must experi- 
ence many a stubborn obstacle in getting out again. 
I should like the reader to conceive at this point, 
if he is able, of Lady Barbara Gossiter, the reign- 
ing Toast, whose imperious charms had played the 
deuce with every embroidered waistcoat in the 
town; I say I want you to conceive, dear Mr. 
Reader, if you have imagination equal to the task, 
this 'exquisite young person scrambling through 
trap-doors into mangers in the middle of the night ! 
Yes, it staggers you, and you say it is impossible. 
I quite agree with that, and confess that when I 
started on this mischief, or this deed of mercy, call 
it what you will (for I certainly will not pretend 
to be better than I am), I had not included feats 
like these in my adventure. Now I had not, un- 
fortunately, the faintest claim to be called an acro- 
bat, but when the hounds have got scent, and the 
whole field is in full cry, one does not tarry for 
the widest and greenest pond, or the quickest set 
of fences. Therefore clinging tightly to the 
trap, I lowered myself with insidious care, inch 
by inch, into the manger. Twas not possible 
to perform an act of this sort without commit- 
ting some little noise. Thus the poor lad pin- 
ioned to the manger heard the creaks of my de- 
scent. 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


35 

“ What the devil ! ” he exclaimed, starting up as 
I could tell by the brisk rustling of his straw. 

“ No, child, not the devil,” I says, “ a person 
handsomer by far. But hush ! lad, hush ! I am here 
to save your neck.” 

He strangled a natural cry at this injunction, 
though an emotion of surprise caused him to strain 
unconsciously against his bonds. The rattle of the 
manger ring to which the unhappy creature was 
secured cut me keenly to the quick. They prate 
of the cruelty of us women, but I wish some of 
these men would consider their own gifts in this 
direction, ere they tax us for our drawing-room 
barbarities. Now Captain Grantley, in his haste 
to take me from the window on the occasion of my 
visit earlier in the night, had forgotten to reshutter 
it, and his omission was now a friend we could not 
well have done without. It let a lively flood of 
moonlight in, which had the cunning to show me 
not only my precise locality, but how one was af- 
fected to the other, the work that was before me, 
and the fairest means by which it could be done. 

At first the poor prisoner dare not accept the 
testimony of his eyes, nor could he trust his ears. 

“ I — I cannot understand,” he said. 

“ Men never can,” I whispered. “ But if we are 
silent, speedy, and ingenious I think I can save you 
from Tyburn, sir.” 

For these words he invoked God’s blessing on 
me, which was quite a new experience, as the invo- 
cations of his sex are much the other way in my 


36 


LADY BARBARITY. 


case. Then he tried to pierce my vizard with his 
eyes, and then rose with slow pain to his feet and 
pushed his handcuffed wrists towards me, for he 
had seen me take forth the file. I attacked at once 
the stout chains by which they were clinched to- 
gether, and in which the cord was looped. ’Twas 
no light employ, let me assure you. The file rasped 
without surcease on the steel for the best part of an 
hour, and I put such an energy in the task that long 
before I had bitten through the gyve my fingers 
ached most bitterly, and I could feel the sweat shin- 
ing in my face. Whoever it was that had put those 
fetters on, ’twas plain he was no tyro in the art. 
But that winter night, had my business been to re- 
duce a castle with my single hand I could have razed 
it to the earth, I think. Therefore, at last I over- 
came the stubborn bonds, and in something less 
than a minute afterwards the desperate rebel had 
all his members free. I am not sure but what a 
bond was forged about his heart though. For in 
the stern assaults I had directed on his chains the 
spring that held my vizard fell away, the patch of 
velvet dropped into the straw, and lo! at the lifting 
of my eyes, I stood unmasked before him. And 
perhaps I was not sorry for it, since — the charming 
fellow! — no sooner did he discover that his hands 
were out of durance than he uttered a low cry of 
pleasure and of gratitude, and when he regarded 
his deliverer his eyes became so bright that they 
must have been sensible of joy. But I was deter- 
mined that in this present instance, no matter how 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


37 


much beyond the common, my native power should 
yet assert itself. Wherefore I drew myself to my 
fullest inches, tipped up my chin and throat a little 
to let him see what snow and dimples are, and what 
a provocation poets sometimes undergo. Then I 
met those fine eyes of his fully with mine own. On 
this occasion ’twas his that did recoil. Nor was this 
at all remarkable, since Mr. Horace Walpole had in- 
formed me but a week before, for the fifteenth time, 
that if these my orbs should confront the sun at 
any time, the sun would be diminished and put out. 
Thus the rebel’s own high look yielded reluctantly 
to mine, and I judged by the twitching of his mouth 
that ’twas as much as he could do to suppress his 
wonder and his thankfulness. But he did in lieu 
of that a thing that was even yet more graceful. 

Without a word he fell on his knees before the 
feet of his releaser, and when I deigned to give my 
hand to him that he might touch it with his lips, 
as I thought his delicious silence not unworthy of 
reward, my every finger thrilled beneath the one 
burning tear that issued from his fine, brave eyes 
and plashed upon them softly. 

“ Madam,” he said then, with his voice all pas- 
sion-broken and shaking so that it must have given 
him an agony to speak, “ a word can never thank 
you. May I thank you some time otherwise?” 

The moonlight was much our friend in this 
strange passage, here amongst the straw of a cold, 
gloomy, and unclean stable at an unheard-of hour 
of night. Pouring through the window it wrapped 


38 


LADY BARBARITY. 


our figures in a sweet vague hue that was as beau- 
tiful as it was subdued. It had a mellow holiness 
about it too, I thought. 

We lost scarce a minute, though, in matters of 
this character. There was much to do if the rebel’s 
escape was to be effected and him to be hence a 
mile or two ere his flight was known. Wherefore 
I commanded him to leave his knees at once, and 
made him do so brisker than perhaps otherwise he 
might have done by saying that his attitude was 
extremely laughable. Next minute I had com- 
mitted the loaded pistol to his care, and had in- 
formed him that as the door of the ground storey 
was locked and a sleeping sentry was huddled 
against it, egress was cut off utterly thereby. I 
proposed, however, that we should get out along 
the route by which I had arrived — namely, by climb- 
ing up into the manger, scrambling through the 
trap into the loft, and descending thence by the 
ladder I had left. 

I was the first to make the trial, as I should 
naturally require the most assistance in ascending 
to the second storey, and preferred to be pushed 
up by the heels from underneath than to be hauled 
up by the arms from overhead. Twas here that I 
was glad that the sun was not about yet, since I 
do not doubt that in my attempt to overcome that 
ugly trap, I was guilty of showing off a trifle more 
of petticoat and stocking than consists with the 
gentility of Saint James’s Park. Still, I was will- 
ing to pay a reasonable price for these present de- 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


39 


lightful issues. Alas! I did not know that I was 
only at the threshold of this affair, and that those 
that lay ahead were to hold more of terror than 
enchantment. 

We soon managed to swing ourselves from the 
manger to the loft, and when we got amongst the 
straw I fell to further instructing my companion. 
It was of the first importance that he should have 
a horse, and I proposed to present him with Re- 
becca, a blood mare of my own, who was stabled 
near at hand. However, as we were to discover 
all too soon, we had reckoned without our host 
considerably. 

Being the better acquainted with our bearings, I 
went ahead and led the way through the hay and 
straw, and in the sequel ’twas quite as well that I 
was foremost. For I was just come to the place 
where the ladder rested, with Mr. Anthony press- 
ing on my heels, when: 

“ Down, sir, into the straw! ” I whispered, and 
smartly as that command was breathed, I was but 
just in time. 

A stream of light rising slowly higher from the 
ladder was the cause of this alarm. The next thing 
that I saw was a lantern swinging from the topmost 
rung, and immediately behind it the face of Cap- 
tain Grantley outlined dimly in the gloom. His 
eyes were fixed steadily on mine, yet the keen 
though quiet smile of greeting with which he met 
my look, and it must have been a guilty one, ap- 
peared to me a miracle of breeding and propriety. 


40 


LADY BARBARITY. 


I had to admire this soldier. Not the quivering 
of a muscle, not the quaking of a tone informed 
me of the depth of his astonishment. As for me, 
after the first paralysis of bewilderment I met his 
gaze with the large, wide look of innocence. I 
understand that I have a genius for dissembling. 
But lord! ’twas needed now. I had gone so far 
in the affair that I could not now withdraw. Be- 
sides, I had not the inclination. The lad was hand- 
some, never a doubt of that. He might be the son 
of. a baker, nevertheless he promised to make an 
extremely proper man. Thus I felt my heart grow 
small with fear, while we continued to survey each 
other with an ingenious and smiling care. As 
for my poor terrified companion, I could tell 
by the soft rustling of straw behind me that 
he was disposing his body as far beyond the 
ken of that lantern and the pair of eyes that 
were the background to it as his situation would 
permit. 

At first the imperturbability of the Captain’s 
mien put me in some hope that he had not as yet sus- 
pected the presence of his prisoner. But he con- 
trived to alarm as greatly as he reassured, since 
he pitched his voice in the very key of drawling 
languor that only the fops of Kensington routs and 
drawing-rooms employ. 

“ Lord! my Lady Barbara, a magnificent even- 
ing, don’t you think?” says he. 

“ Do you suppose I would be out of my bed en- 
joying it unless it was, my dearest Captain?” says 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


41 

I, with a countenance of the most simple girlishness 
in the world. 

The trembling prisoner burrowed the deeper in 
the straw. 

Now it would have been a perfect piece of com- 
edy, had not that poor lad been breathing so hard 
and quick behind me. His life was suspended on 
a hair, and this he knew, and I knew also. Other- 
wise I should have enjoyed the acting of this play 
in a fashion that my jaded appetite seldom enjoys 
anything. Therefore I continued to regard the 
Captain with a gravely whimsical look; but if he 
twitched an eyelid, altered the position of a finger, 
or shifted the altitude an inch at which the lantern 
hung, I began to speculate upon the fact, and wrote 
it in my heart. We played a game of cat and mouse, 
and for once the Captain was the cat. Conceive 
me the grey and frightened little mouse, trying to 
dodge the deathly paw that any instant might de- 
scend and mutilate it. 

“ Captain,” says I, “ are you also interested 
deeply in the study of astronomy? ” 

“ Astronomy! ” cries he, “ why astronomy? ” 

He was a wonderfully clever cat, but trembling 
little mousie had got him, by her cunning ways, a 
trifle off his guard you see. 

“ Why, my dearest man,” says I, putting a world 
of surprise into my tone lest the moonlight should 
not properly reflect the amount that was inserted in 
my face, “ do you suppose for an instant now that a 
woman wholly in possession of her wits would quit 


42 


LADY BARBARITY. 


a warm bed at three o’clock of a winter’s night to 
gaze at a full moon from a hay loft if a question of 
the heavenly bodies had not summoned her. Do 
you think for a moment, sir, that I am here with- 
out a reason? Or rank somnambulism you may 
consider it? ” 

You would have laughed at the amount of in- 
dignant heat, as though I were hurt most tenderly, 
that I contrived to instil into my accents. 

“Oh dear no, dear Lady Barbara!” says the 
horrid creature as silkily as possible; “that you 
are here without a reason I do not for a moment 
think. You misjudge me there, dear lady.” 

Captain Grantley was become the devil ! I fair- 
ly raked his smiling face with the fierceness of my 
eyes, but when they were driven from it by the 
simplicity of his look, it was smiling still, yet in- 
scrutable as the night in which we stood. His lan- 
guage was so ordered that it might mean every- 
thing; on the contrary it might mean nothing. 
This was the distracting part. The man spoke in 
such an honest, unpremeditated fashion that who 
should suspect that he knew anything at all? But 
why was he here? And why could at least two in- 
terpretations be put upon every word he uttered? 
These the ruminations of a guilty mind! 

Hereabouts an idea regaled me. If I could but 
coax the Captain up into the loft, it would leave 
the ladder free. The prisoner then might make a 
dash for liberty, and if he had an athlete’s body 
and sound wind and limbs to serve him in his 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


43 

flight, all was not yet lost, and he had still a chance 
of life. 

“ Captain,” says I, taking a bearing cautiously, 
“ is the supposition right that a matter of the heav- 
enly bodies hath also brought you into the night 
at this unpropitious season?” 

“ Well, scarcely,” says the Captain. “ ’Tis my 
duty, madam.” 

That word in its solemnity made me start. And 
it was spoken in a voice so pregnant and so deep 
that it frightened the trembling prisoner too. The 
violence of his emotion caused him to stir uneasily, 
and make the straw crack. 

“Dear me!” I cried, “did you hear that 
mouse? ” And I gathered my skirts up in my hor- 
ror, and huddled my ankles one against the other 
in the extremity of fear. 

“A mouse?” the Captain says; “must have 
been a very big one, dear lady. Say a rat now; 
liker a rat, Fm thinking.” 

“ Oh no,” I shivered, “ ’twas a mouse, Fm 
positive. I felt his little tail against my shoe. I 
have no fear of rats — but a mouse, it is a frightful 
creature.” 

“ That shoe must be highly sensitive, dear 
lady,” says the Captain, with a laugh and holding 
down the light. “ Ah I I see that shoe is a carpet 
slipper. A carpet slipper on a frosty night. How 
odd!” 

I repeat, the Captain was become the devil. 

“ Odd? They are indeed,” says I. “ That care- 
4 


44 


LADY BARBARITY. 


less maid of mine actually crammed my feet in her 
haste into two rights instead of left and right. But 
a carpet slipper is a very elastic article, you know.’' 

“Very,” says the Captain, “and very secret 
also.” • 

“I should think it is,” says I, with an air of 
simple candour. “ I would not use one else. You 
see my papa, the Earl, objects to these moonlight 
trips of mine. I thus use carpet slippers that he 
shall not hear me pass his door or walk across the 
hall. And I must implore you, sir, not to betray 
me in this matter.” 

Here I set such a wistful, pleading gaze upon 
the Captain that it nearly knocked him backwards 
from the ladder. 

“ My dearest lady! ” and he laid his hand upon 
his heart. 

Meanwhile I had not forgotten my design. 

“ I daresay,” says I, “ you would like to have 
one glimpse, sir, of Luna and her satellites. I have 
an apparatus with me. See, here’s my telescope. 
A little darling of a creature, is it not? ” 

Twisting half round to where the prisoner was, 
I began to fumble in my pocket for it. Of course 
I must bend my head to do so. 

“ When he leaves the ladder,” says I to the lad, 
in the softest whisper ever used, “ leap out and 
down it like the wind; then it’s neck and heels to 
Scotland I ” 

Thereupon I took the file forth from my cloak, 
and so disposed my hands about it that in the in- 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


45 


sufficient light it became a very creditable tele- 
scope. I fitted the point into my eye, and jutted 
forth the handle with great nicety. 

“Venus is in trine,” says I, with this strange 
telescope trained upon the stars. 

“ And how is Mars to-night? ” says the Captain, 
with a gallant interest. 

“ Mars is out of season, sir,” says I. “ He is at 
no advantage. But Saturn and some others are 
wonderfully bright. Come up and gaze, sir. ’Twill 
interest you rarely, I am certain, and I have here 
the finest little instrument that was ever fashioned 
by the artifice of Italy; besides, the situation of my 
observatory is most admirably good.” 

But the very watchful cat upon the ladder be- 
trayed no disposition to come up and hunt minutely 
for the mouse. 

“ If you will lend me the telescope,” says he, 
“ I think I shall find my present station equally 
excellent for the purposes of observation.” 

When he uttered the phrases “ for the purposes 
of observation,” he looked as simple as a child. But 
I had a desire to strike him from the ladder all the 
same. Not by a single word had he let me know as 
yet whether design or accident had brought him of 
all places to this particular ladder at this particular 
hour. Long as I had fenced he was as inscrutable 
as his solitaire. I was not wiser in one instance 
than when I had begun. Yet I was entitled to a 
guess, and alas ! it was a gloomy one. 

“ Captain Grantley,” says I, with a foot-tap of 


46 


LADY BARBARITY. 


petulance, “ I have invited you to my observa- 
tory.” 

“ In the middle of the night,” says he. It was 
so deftly couched that for my life I was not certain 
whether it was intended for a stinging insult or a 
very neat evasion. But though forced to admire 
a hit so delicate and so palpable, I was extremely 
angry, too, for circumstances had left me entirely 
to his tender mercies. Yet the rebel, having heard 
his speech, jumped at once to the opinion that it 
was rather an insinuation than a subterfuge, and 
being a boy and therefore hot with his heroics, was 
mighty impetuous for what he considered the hon- 
our of his champion. And although the act would 
certainly have involved his life, he was quite pre- 
pared to retaliate upon the Captain’s person, that I 
might be avenged. 

Happily I divined his intention just in time. I 
caught the cracking of the straw, gave back a step 
and screamed a little, drew my petticoats together, 
and set one heel as heavily as I could on the upris- 
ing rebel’s breast. 

“ The mouse! ” I cried; “ there it is again. Did 
you not hear it, sir? Oh, I am in such horrid fear! 
Captain, do come up and catch it for me by the 
tail! ” 

Now my mind was so involved in the escape of 
this staunch and honest lad, that you will see it was 
quite heedless as to the degree these requests 
might implicate myself. In the end, however, the 
Captain himself proved sufficiently a gentleman to 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


47 


redeem me from this unlucky situation. Grantley, 
the town-bred fop, had just pierced me keenly with 
his wit; but next moment Grantley, officer of the 
King, and defender of his country, came bravely 
to my aid. 

“ My Lady Barbara,” says he, mildly, but abat- 
ing somewhat the mincing accents of the exquisite, 
“ I think this mummery hath gone on long enough. 
’Tis a very dangerous game for us both to play; 
and, madam, I think the more especially for you, 
since the more beautiful a woman is, the more per- 
turbed the world is for her reputation. And, my 
dear lady, you really should consider the limita- 
tions of us poor susceptibles ; we are very frail 
sometimes, you know. But let us have an end to 
the acting of this play.” 

“Play!” says I, with sweet surprise; “sir, to 
what do you refer? ” 

I gazed at him with perfect innocence, but I 
thought I heard sounds of hard, deep breathing 
issue from the straw behind me. 

“ My Lady Barbara,” the Captain said, and set- 
ting the lantern a point the nearer to my face to 
mark the effect of his words upon it, “ your conduct 
in this matter, I will confess, hath been exceeding 
creditable to your heart. But in the name of the 
King I summon one Anthony Dare, lying there be- 
hind you, to stand forth from that straw.” 

Now there was not a word in this demand be- 
yond what I should have anticipated from the first; 
but my adversary had fenced and toyed with me 


48 


LADY BARBARITY. 


SO long, that he had almost weaned my mind from 
thinking that he knew of my attempt and the poor 
prisoner’s situation. And in the very breath of this 
avowal he let me see that he had ordered his tactics 
with so complete a skill that the prisoner’s doom 
was sealed. Before the final word was uttered a 
cocked pistol was pointed at the straw. The lad 
concealed amongst it, feeling that all was over, 
made an attempt to rise. Perhaps his idea was to 
throw himself upon his wary foe, but that, I saw, 
was certain death. He would have been shot down 
like a dog. Thus by the renewed pressure of my 
heel upon his breast, I was able to still restrain him. 
Indeed, I was already ploughing up my wits to find 
another plan. It is a part of my character never 
to surrender until I am compelled. Till my adver- 
sary wins, I have not lost, and the nearer he be to 
victory, the greater the danger that besets him. 

“ Captain,” says I, with a meek, sad smile, “ I 
have played my game, and I have lost it. Victory 
sits with you. Let me compliment you on your 
superior skill, sir, and crave your leave to now 
withdraw.” 

I said this as humbly as you please. I hung my 
head, and the limp dejection of my form betrayed 
how utterly I was beaten. Every spark of spirit 
was gone out of me, apparently. The Captain was 
not ungenerous, and seeing me so badly gravelled 
and that I took thus sincerely my reverses, was kind 
enough to say: 

My Lady Barbara, you have played a bold 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


49 

and skilful game, and I tender you my compliments 
upon it.” 

My cunning gentleman I could see had been 
taken off his guard a little by my lowliness of bear- 
ing. He did not discern that ’twas in my mind, de- 
spite the fact that both the prisoner and myself were 
utterly at the mercy of his pistol, to attempt quite 
the boldest stroke of all. 

It was now that I withdrew my slipper from 
the prisoner’s breast and walked up in the most 
natural way one could imagine to within a foot of 
where the Captain stood upon the ladder, smiling 
with something of the air of Alexander. I took 
my steps with such discretion and feigned a simple 
negligence so well that he suspected nothing. My 
Lady Barbara being my Lady Barbara, he had of 
course nothing to suspect. 

“ I wish to descend if you will allow me, sir,” 
says I, “ for I cannot bear to stand by and see my 
unhappy friend retaken.” 

He was preparing to accommodate me in this 
perfectly humane request when, tightening my fin- 
gers on the file, I struck the butt of his pistol with 
all my strength, and straight the weapon dropped 
from his hand and clattered ten feet to the stones 
below. The prisoner at my back was marvellously 
quick. In almost the same instant as the pistol 
tinkled on the yard the lad was up. He flew at the 
astonished Captain like a cat, and struck him full 
and neat just underneath the jaw. Twas a mur- 
derous blow, and the horrid thud it made quite 


50 


LADY BARBARITY. 


turned my stomach over. But it was not a time 
for niceties. The Captain tumbled backwards down 
the ladder, neck and heels; his lantern was shat- 
tered to a thousand atoms; and in two seconds he, 
the pistol, broken glass, and much good benzoline 
were in a heap upon the stones. The prisoner 
waited for no courtesies. He did not even give his 
foe the chance of a recovery; for, disdaining to use 
the ladder, he jumped to the ground in such a cal- 
culated way that he descended with his hands and 
knees upon the Captain’s prostrate person. 

Now it was evident that much more than this 
was required to provide the Captain’s quietus, for 
so soon as the prisoner fell upon his body he 
clasped him by the waist and clung to him with the 
tenacity of a leech. For a full minute they fought 
and wrestled on the ground and felt for one an- 
other’s throats. But the Captain underneath found 
the arguments of the man on the top too forcible. 
Thus by the time that I was down the ladder the 
rebel had managed to extricate himself, and was 
running away as hard as he was able. 

And here it was that Fortune treated him so 
cruelly. The hours he had passed in prison with 
limbs cramped up and bound had told too sure a 
tale. He was unable to move beyond half the pace 
a healthy and clean-limbed youth should be able 
to employ. And the Captain was a person of the 
truest mettle. Despite the several shocks he had 
undergone and the bruises he had suffered, he was 
up without a moment’s pause and running the 


THE REBEL DISAPPEARS. 


51 


rebel down with rare agility. In his haste, though, 
there was a highly necessary article that he had 
failed to regard. That was the pistol lying on the 
ground beside him. And it will prove to you that I 
was still playing the prisoner’s game with all my 
wits when I say that I pounced on it and threw 
it up into the hay loft, where it could be no use to 
anybody. Then I sped after the pair of runners to 
see what the outcome was to be. They were racing 
through a gate that led into the park, which slept 
in a pale, cold silence beneath the peaceful moon. 

I had not run a hundred yards when, alas! the 
issue grew too plain. Yard by yard the Captain 
bore down upon his foe. It was only a matter of 
minutes ere he once more had him at his mercy. 
But observing their movements eagerly as I went a 
thrill of horror trembled through my heart, for I 
clearly saw the fugitive clap his hand into his coat, 
and even as he ran, withdraw something from it 
secretly. He concealed it with his hand. But in a 
flash it was in my mind that this was the loaded 
pistol I had given him. And the Captain was un- 
armed. 

If you give rein enough to mischief it may lead 
you into many and strange things. But I think it 
should always draw the line at murder. Much as I 
would have paid for the prisoner’s escape, ’twas 
more than I could endure to witness a stark and 
naked murder. Mind, I did not enter into the 
merits of the case at all. I would have the lad es- 
cape at every cost, but none the less, murder must be 


52 


LADY BARBARITY. 


prevented. And now I saw that the holder of the 
pistol was tailing off in his speed so palpably that he 
must soon be overtaken. There was a reason for 
his tardiness, however. He was waiting till his 
pursuer should come within a yard or two; then he 
would whip round and discharge the pistol straight 
into his body. 

This idea, together with the thought that I had 
armed him for the deed, was more than I could 
suffer. A wretched sickness overtook me. But it 
made me the more determined to save the Captain 
if I could. Therefore, I knit my teeth upon the 
weak cries of my terror and ran, and ran, and ran 
till I came within hailing distance of them, for both 
had now much slackened in thier running. Happily 
the Captain had at last observed the weapon of his 
enemy and had interpreted his bloody motive. 
Thus, while the one awaited the coming of his foe, 
the other warily approached, but with no abatement 
of his courage: whilst I, profiting by these ma- 
noeuvres, was soon at the place where they had dis- 
posed themselves for their battle. 


CHAPTER IV. 

OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 

“ For the love of God, my lad, don’t fire! ” I 
cried to the rebel at the pitch of the little voice that 
yet was left me. 

They had now halted, and stood confronting 
one another very close in the dewy grass of the 
open meadow, while the moon wrapped them in 
her creepy light. For, perhaps, while one might 
count thirty they stood apart with as little motion 
as the ghostly trees, in a tense and straining silence. 
Again I cried: 

“Oh, hold your fire, my lad!” more instantly 
than ever. And sis I thus implored him, I made a 
great effort to overtake and get between them. But 
the matter was now gone utterly beyond any con- 
trol of mine. They gave me no more heed than I 
had been a tuft of grass. And whether ’twas that 
the sound of me behind him spurred the Captain to 
a fury, or that he risked his life from calculation, 
sure, I can never say, for, as I came up, without a 
word the Captain sprang and the prisoner shot to- 
gether. At the fierce crack of the pistol the Captain 

53 


54 


LADY BARBARITY. 


fell from his full height upon the turf, and I recoiled 
from the report and felt all at once the wet grass 
tickling my face; whereon a sudden darkness filled 
my eyes, and I lost the sense of where I was. For 
some little time I must have been insensible. But 
soon the blackness that pressed upon my eyelids 
lifted somewhat, and the buzzing in my ears abated. 
’Twas then that I found myself sitting in a most 
quaint fashion on the grass, though the manner of 
my falling on that wet sward was a point more than 
my knowledge. A comic figure I must have cut, 
and I believe my earliest feeling was one of deep 
relief that there was but one spectator of my plight 
— he the Captain, who to tell the truth was in no 
prettier case. I was at first disposed to attribute 
my preposterous state to the wrought condition of 
my nerves, and had half arrived at the conclusion 
that even this pretext was insufficient for so ex- 
treme a situation, when I grew dimly conscious 
that a sort of fiery pain was throbbing in one shoul- 
der. It was then I knew that I was hit. Meantime 
poor Captain Grantley was striving hard to rise. 
Twice he tried and twice he failed and fell back 
on the grass. The second time he groaned an oath, 
for his eyes had fallen on the swift figure of the 
prisoner fading in the dew. 

“ Dammy, Jimmy ! ” says he to himself, strug- 
gling for the third time to regain his feet and fail- 
ing. It’s no go, my lad. You are taken some- 
where.” 

Thereupon he sat up in the grass and began to 


OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 55 

whistle with grave bravado an odd strain from the 
“ Beggar’s Opera.” Then my merry gentleman 
turned and looked at me. I also was sitting up in 
the grass, perhaps a dozen yards away, and was in 
almost an identical posture to himself, except that 
mine was a matter of the nerves and shoulder. But 
if you could have found a more comic pair upon the 
surface of the earth than we made just then, I 
should be glad to learn their whereabouts, for to 
behold them would well repay a pilgrimage. 

“Why, bless my soul, my Lady Barbara!” he 
cries in a tone of deep concern, “ do not tell me 
that you are taken too ! ” 

“ I fear I am,” says I, with a great desire to 
swoon, for my shoulder was as hot and wet as pos- 
sible. 

“ But not grievously, I hope,” says he. 

“ Sure I do not know,” I answered weakly. 
And sure I didn’t! For I felt so utterly foreign 
at this moment to my usual confident and lively 
self that I was not certain whether I was really 
caught at all, or whether I was about to die. The 
Captain, however, was not to be satisfied with this. 
With the aid of two hands and one knee he 
crawled towards me, dragging his shattered mem- 
ber through the grass, as stiffly as a pole, so that it 
seemed to trail after the remainder of his body in 
the manner of a wounded snake. When he reached 
my side, though I think I was very nearly dying 
for a little sympathy, he compelled me to extend 
all that I was expending on myself to him. The 


LADY BARBARITY. 


56 

moonlight, beating fully on his face, showed it livid 
and drawn with pain. 

“ Why, my dear man,” says I, “ what have you 
dragged yourself here to do?” For seeing him in 
this extremity, I forgot all about my shoulder, which 
really seemed to have had no more than one stroke 
from a whip laid on it. 

“ To succour you,” says he, “ if you will permit 
me?” 

“ Then I won't,” says I, “ for 'tis you that’s want- 
ing aid.” 

“ Psha ! ” says he ; “a mere scratch, my dearest 
lady.” 

Now that was not the truth, for the man was in 
such agony that he could scarcely speak. Yet I 
thought his courage admirable. Here it was I 
made an attempt to rise on my own account, and 
with far better success than he. But so soon as I 
stood up, my head reeled and swayed and nearly 
brought me to the grass again. 

I think it must have been the presence of the 
Captain that saved me from fainting on the spot. 
But having once fought down that supreme desire, 
my strength unaccountably returned, and I deter- 
mined to set forth straightway to the house to pro- 
cure assistance for the Captain, who was still sit- 
ting on the turf as helpless as a baby. 

“ I beg of you,” says he, observing me to be 
already fit for travel, to instruct one of your peo- 
ple to call my men at once. 

“ By my faith, no,” says I, “ that poor lad must 


OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 57 

have as much start of you and your men as possible. 
Captain, you forget that I am a rebel.” 

“ Under your pardon I do not,” says he, whilst 
a groan rose to his lips. “ And would that I might 
dissemble it, for this may prove a very awkward 
business.” 

Twas a smothered threat of course, but I smiled 
at it demurely. 

However, my- present plan to assist the pris- 
oner’s escape was unluckily doomed to a frustra- 
tion. A sentry had been dispatched from the house 
to relieve the one on guard at the stable door. 
Finding him asleep and the prisoner gone, he had 
repaired to his comrades, and then to the Captain’s 
room with a report of the occurrence. That bird 
was also flown. Thereupon the whole house was 
put in a commotion, somewhere on the stroke of 
four of the wintry morning, and the soldiers issued 
forth in a body to seek high and low the rebel and 
their officer. Three of them were now bearing 
down upon us in the meadow. In a word they 
were advised of their commander’s accident and 
the necessity for haste. Therefore summoning 
their fellows they promptly unhinged one of the 
hurdles of the park and bore the Captain on it to 
his chamber. And as soon as they had done this, 
they got to horse, and galloped hotly in pursuit 
of the fleeing rebel, who had something less than 
two hours start upon them. 

We shall see him brought back before the day 
is out ! ” said the Captain, confidently ; “ for he hath 


58 


LADY BARBARITY. 


never a friend nor a horse hereby, nor a penny to 
procure them.” 

Meantime I was in a panic of alarm on my own 
account. To a woman of the mode a pair of un- 
blemished shoulders are highly requisite when she 
repairs to Vauxhall, the playhouse, or the King’s 
levee. No sooner did the fear oppress me that one 
of them was permanently mutilated than I dis- 
carded my vapidity and went like the wind from 
the meadow to my chamber to resolve the matter 
to the test. I cannot possibly convey to you the dis- 
tresses of hope and fear I suffered on that journey. 
I never felt my wound at all now, and was hardly 
conscious of my weariness. Thus in a surprising 
little time I was running up the staircase to my 
chamber. Emblem was toasting her toes at the 
hearth, and was very properly asleep and dream- 
ing of white satin. My vigorous entrance woke 
her, though. 

“ Come, wench, bestir yourself! ” cries I, in my 
fever of alarm, “ and find me the lowest-necked 
evening bodice I have got. Now, out with it at 
once and dress me in it, or, ’pon my soul I you shall 
not have that satin gown I promised you.” 

At the mention of the gown she flew to a ward- 
robe and produced the necessary article with a pal- 
pitating suddenness; whilst I threw off my cloak 
and ordered Mrs. Polly to remove the present 
bloodied bodice that I wore, heedless of wounds 
and other mortal things of that sort. 

“Blood! oh, it’s blood, my lady!” cries Mrs. 


OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 59 

Polly Emblem ; and her frightened face was mottled 
white and red, the very pattern of my linen, with 
the gory spots upon it. “ Oh, you are hurt, my 
lady! You are dreadfully hurt, I’m certain!” 

“ Never you mind that,” says I with a very 
Spartan air; “ but just put me in that bodice, and 
tell me, for your life, whether ’twill conceal this 
wound or whether ’twill not. For if it doth expose 
the scar,” I announced in a manner highly tragical, 
while the tears gathered in my eyes, “ the reign 
of my Lady Barbarity is over.” 

“ Even if it does,” says Emblem, “ we may 
powder and enamel it, my lady.” 

“ Psha ! ” cries I, “ there is all the difference 
in the world betwixt a scar and a bad complexion. 
Art can never obliterate a scar.” And here I began 
to bite my handkerchief in pieces, being no longer 
able to contain myself. 

The ensuing minute was one of the most awful 
of my life. It seemed as though Emblem — trem- 
bling wretch! — would never get that bodice on; 
but, to do her justice in this affair, and to act kindly 
towards her character, I must admit that she be- 
trayed a very proper instinct in this matter. That 
is to say, she was as desperately seized as ever was 
her mistress with the fear that my peerless shoul- 
ders were torn in such a fashion that a low dress 
would be inadequate to hide their mutilation. 

Happily, the pistol-ball had simply run along 
the skin and had slit it open for an inch or two, 
quite low down in the shoulder-blade — a mere 
5 


6o 


LADY BARBARITY. 


scratch, in fact, that let out very little blood. Thus 
we managed to get one garment off and the other 
on, both easily and painlessly. Then 'twas that 
Emblem clapped her hands, and gave a cry of joy. 

“ It covers it, your la’ship, by a full two inches,” 
she exclaimed. 

“You are sure of that? ” cries I, in a tremor of 
excitement. “ There must be no mistake about it, 
now. Bring me a mirror here that I may see it 
for myself.” 

This she did, and, though the disturbed wound 
was smarting horribly, I paid no attention to it 
until I was assured that its position was even as 
Mrs. Polly Emblem said. To describe the relief 
that my mind immediately experienced would be 
impossible. 

“Lord, that’s lovely!” cries I, and fervently 
kissed the cheek of Mrs. Polly to express my grati- 
tude to good old Lady Fortune, who, I am sure, 
kind soul! must in her time have been a woman of 
the mode! But then it was that the stress of the 
night returned; all my weaknesses concertedly at- 
tacked me, and the pangs of my wound (though the 
wound was but the faintest scratch) were so aggra- 
vated by them that it appeared as if my flesh were 
being nipped by a hundred red-hot pincers. I 
sobbed out: 

“ Quick with a cordial. Emblem, for I feel that 
I must swoon! ” 

And faith! no sooner had I said this than I 
swooned in deadly earnest. I was restored in good 


OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 6 1 

time, though, and, having had my shoulder bathed 
and a plaster put upon it, I was got to bed, and 
slept profoundly till some time after two o'clock of 
the afternoon. 

When I opened my eyes I saw that the room was 
darkened, and that anxious Mrs. Polly, Doctor 
Paradise (physician-in-ordinary to all the county 
families about), and no less a person than my Aunt, 
the dowager, were sitting in a row beside the bed, 
and looking at me solemnly. 

“ Good evening to you, doctor,” says I, feeling 
perfectly restored by so sound a slumber, “ or is it 
afternoon? or is it morning? But I daresay you 
propose to make a case of this.” 

“ Well, madam,” says the twinkling, old, and 
snuffy rogue, “ you are suffering from shock, and 
a contused and lacerated shoulder. Therefore I 
prescribe rest and quiet, and would recommend 
that you keep your bed for at least a week.” 

“ Then I must be pretty bad,” says I. 

“ True, true, dear Lady Barbara,” says he, in- 
sinuatingly, although, if I may presume to say 
so, I think ‘ pretty bad ' is an expression scarce 
adequate to your condition.” 

“ Eh, what? ” says I. 

“ Of course, my dear lady,” he explained, with 
wicked emphasis, “ it is the condition of your cor- 
poral body that I refer to.” And the sly old vil- 
lain smiled and bowed in a very disconcerting 
manner. 

Now it does you not a tittle of service anyway to 


62 


LADY BARBARITY. 


chop dialectics with your doctor. He knows every- 
thing about your way of life; your past, your future, 
and your present state, and he can pepper you with 
phrases that seem as harmless as the alphabet, if 
you look at them from the point of view of a physi- 
cian. Yet if the world chooses to place its own con- 
struction on them, it would not feel tempted to mis- 
take one for an archangel. In short, your doctor is 
not the person you should lead into a discourse in 
the presence of your Aunt. 

“ Then I must keep my bed for at least a 
week?” says I. 

“ I should strongly advise it,” says old Para- 
dise. 

“ Indeed you would, sir,” says I, sweetly; 
“ then. Emblem, fetch me my spotted taffety. For 
I propose to instantly get up.” 

And to the indignation of my Aunt, the dow- 
ager, who regarded the whole tribe of doctors as 
religiously as the Brahmins do their sacred bull, 
I suddenly renounced the sheets, sat on the margin 
of the bed, and bade Emblem draw my stockings 
on. In my experience this hath proved the exact- 
est mode of routing the whole infernal faculty. Do 
not argue with them, for their whole art consists in 
contriving new and elegant diseases for persons of 
an uncompromising health. Therefore at this mo- 
ment my Aunt, with a shake of her wintry curls at 
me, invited the doctor to a dish of tea downstairs, 
and a game of cribbage afterwards. Thus before 
my second stocking was drawn on they had de- 


OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 63 

parted, but had left behind volumes of horrid 
prophecies of blood poisoning, high fever, and 
five-and-twenty other things. 

“ Now lock the door, my Emblem,” says I, 
cheerfully, “ and tell me every bit of news.” • 

“ If I were you, my lady,” Emblem says, I 
would get back to bed this instant and grow very 
ill indeed. For Captain Grantley is drawing a 
complaint up in this matter, and thinks that upon 
the strength of it the Government will feel com- 
pelled to arrest you for high treason and send you 
to the Tower. 

“ High what? ” cries I, “ send me to the where? 
Why, upon my soul! did any man ever speak such 
nonsense in his natural ! As though the Govern- 
ment would do anything of the kind. Twas but a 
piece of mischief. I meant no harm. I’m certain I 
never wished to hurt the Captain, who, by the way, 
is much cleverer and braver than I had supposed. 
’Twas but a piece of fun, I say. And if the poor 
lad did escape, well, he was a very pretty lad, and I 
am certainly not sorry. Arrest me! Send me to 
the Tower! Pah! the Government will do nothing 
of the kind. Why, Emblem, what is it that I’ve 
done.” 

“ Sure I don’t know, my lady,” says the faithful 
creature, beginning to whimper like a child; ‘‘you / 
have done nothing very wicked as I can see. Of 
course he was a prisoner, but then there is lots of 
other prisoners, and plenty as big as he, and bigger 
if it comes to that.” 


64 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Why, of course there is, you silly goose,” 
says L 

“ And you never meant that the Captain should 
be hurt, my lady? ” 

“ I would not have hurt him for the world,” 
says I. ‘‘ Now, dry your eyes, my girl. The Gov- 
ernment hath no more of a case against me than it 
hath against the Pope of Rome. And even if it 
had, it is too well bred to dare to prefer it against 
Bab Gossiter; besides, it is not as though there 
was any malice in the thing. And as you say, a 
prisoner more or a prisoner less doth matter not a 
little bit.” 

“ But,” says the foolish Emblem, v/eeping more 
than ever, “ my lord is very much concerned at the 
Captain’s disposition. Why, my lady, I heard him 
say not an hour ago that there is nothing to be 
done, and that the consequences must be faced.” 

“Consequences!” laughed I. “That comes of 
being a politician. Oh, these statesmen and prime 
ministers, with their grave faces. Why, if a chair- 
man so much as puts his foot on a poodle dog in 
Mincing Lane, they talk of it in whispers and dis- 
cuss its bearing on what they call the ‘ situation.’ 
Or if a washerwoman presents her husband with a 
pair of healthy twins at Charing there’s a meeting 
of the Council to see whether that fact hath altered 
the aspect of affairs. And it’s the nation this, and 
the nation that; and they talk as mysterious as 
Jesuits with their interminable Whigs and their 
pestilential Tories whom nobody understands and 


OF AN ODD PASSAGE IN THE MEADOW. 65 

nobody cares a farthing for. Send me to the 
Tower! A set of politicians, no handsomer than 
clergymen and nothing like so humorous. La! 
Emblem, I would like to see ^em do it! ” 

I was both angry and amused at this idea, and 
got into my clothes as quickly as I could, for I 
was now on fire to go and see the Earl. The notion 
was really too absurd. 

How is the Captain now ?” 1 inquired, while I 
dressed. 

“ His knee is shattered dreadfully,” the maid re- 
plied, “ and he will not be. able to leave this house 
for many weeks.” 

“ That is good news,” said I, complacently. 

He will be able to amuse me during these long 
winter evenings. But tell me. Emblem, is that poor 
prisoner lad retaken? The Captain swore that his 
soldiers would retake him in an hour or two.” 

“They have not returned yet,” Emblem an- 
swered. 

“Excellent!” cried I; “that’s made my shoul- 
der better.” 

And I fell to dancing up and down the chamber 
in the effervescence of my mood. 


CHAPTER V. 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 

I WAS very mystified by the manner of my papa. 
When I tripped into his presence, I was met with 
that wonderful sweet politeness that was so much 
in the marrow of the maa that at his decease a tale 
was put about in town that his death was delayed 
ten minutes by the elaborate courtesies with which 
he introduced himself to the Old Gentleman’s at- 
tention. 

Having paid me a compliment or two and dis- 
covered the good condition of my shoulder, he con- 
gratulated me on that fact, and then took a chair 
with such comical solemnity that I burst into 
laughing at the picture that he made. 

“ Mr. J. P.,” says I, “ that’s excellent. Mr. Gus- 
tos Rutulorum, my devoir to you! And I am sure 
your worship hath only to strike that attitude at 
the Petty Sessions to reform every poacher in the 
shire.” 

I rose and swept three curtseys at him, but he 
sat more serious than ever. 

“ Bab,” says he, “there hath been an accident; 
and, my dear child, I would have given much to 
have prevented it.” 

66 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


67 

There was a depth and brevity about these 
words that startled me out of my lightheartedness. 
I had never guessed that this old barbarian kept 
such a chord locked up in his heart. In five-and- 
twenty years I had not touched it till this instant, 
and why or how I had done so now I did not know. 

Meantime I sat in silent fascination at the fine 
and sorrowful power that had come into his voice, 
and hearkened with all my ears to everything he 
had to say. 

“ Bab,” says he, with a gentle smile that was 
intended to conceal his unaccustomed gravity, 
“ man is a whimsical animal, I am aware. But 
there is one thing in him that even a woman must 
deal with mercifully. You have perhaps not heard 
of what he calls his honour. The omission is not 
yours, my pretty lady; your angelic sex rises su- 
perior to honour and little flippancies of that kind. 
But your papa suffers from his sex, and is, there- 
fore, tainted with their foolish heresies. He hath 
also what he calls his honour; and a certain young 
person whom I will not blame, but who, I may say, 
is as greatly celebrated for her beauty as her wit, 
hath quite unconsciously put her foot upon it. 
And that spot is so tender that she must forgive the 
victim if he groans.” 

He smiled a charming, melancholy smile, and 
made me think of those noble velvet gentlemen by 
Vandyck upon the walls of our state chambers, 
whom I would stand and look at hours together 
and make love with all my heart to when I was a 


68 


LADY BARBARITY. 


little girl. To watch him smile and to hear him 
speaking like a most tender music, none could have 
discerned what his emotion was, unless one had the 
experience of a lifetime to bear upon his ways. 
•And for myself, ’twas only the misgivings of my 
heart that told me he was in great pain. 

“What is it that I’ve done, my lord?” cries I, 
feeling that he must have been furnished with a 
very highly coloured picture of my deeds. 

“ I gave my word to the King,” he answered 
me, “ that I would succour his soldiers here at 
Cleeby for a night, and take the prisoner that they 
held into my keeping faithfully. Instead of that 
I send my maid to drug the sentry; I go out in a 
pair of carpet slippers in the middle of the night; 
I set a ladder up against the hayloft; I climb up 
there, and, by means of dropping through a trap 
into a manger, I get into the prisoner’s cell and let 
the prisoner out; I furnish that prisoner with a pis- 
tol ; I disarm an officer of the King, and cause him 
to be shot severely in the knee, and enable the 
prisoner to escape. It is in this manner that I re- 
deem my promise to the Government of His Ma- 
jesty the King.” 

“You, my lord! ” cries I, aghast, and doubting 
whether he had the proper enjoyment of his mind. 
“Pray shatter those delusions! I, my lord — I, 
your daughter Bab, did that, and I can show you 
the wound upon my shoulder that I got.” And 
here I chanced to sneeze, and turned it into evi- 
dence. 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


69 

“And that, my lord,” says I, “is the mortal 
cold I’ve caught from those carpet slippers. I put 
them on for fear of waking you, sir.” 

“ Bab,” says he, in a wooing voice, “ was it you 
who made that promise to the King?” 

“ Certainly not,” says I, in triumph, “ for do you 
suppose that I would have thus amused myself 
had I done so? I told the Captain I was a rebel 
from the first.” 

“ Then that confirms all that I have said,” says 
he, “ and I have informed the Captain that you 
count for nothing in this matter, and ’twas I who 
let the prisoner out.” 

“ Which, under your pardon, you never did,” 
says I, misunderstanding him. “ I took the risks 
and I’ll have the glory. ’Twill be published in the 
Courier that that audacious wretch Bab Gossiter 
let out a dangerous rebel in the middle of the night, 
at her father’s country seat, by outwitting nimbly 
a well-known officer of His Majesty. They will 
put me in a ballad, and sell ’em two a penny in the 
Strand. Sylvanus Urban will have a full and par- 
ticular account of me in the Gentleman’s Magazine, 
and for a whole nine days I shall be as variously 
known as Joan of Arc or wicked Mrs. Molly Cut- 
purse.” 

“ But ’twill be said,” says he, “ that Mrs. Ru- 
mour hath lied as usual, and that she hath been quite 
put out of countenance by the fact that the Earl of 
Longacre, her peerless ladyship’s papa, hath con- 
fessed in his own person to this treason; that he 


70 


LADY BARBARITY. 


hath stood his trial upon it at Old Bailey; hath 
been found guilty, and therefore stands committed 
to the Tower.” 

“ Papa,” says I, severely, “ you are become pro- 
fane. Do not jest with such sacred names as ‘ High 
Treason,' ‘ Old Bailey,' and the ‘ Tower.' '' 

“ Bab,” says he, “ a woman’s head is far too 
pretty to understand these ugly matters. But 'tis 
enough that ’twas I that let that prisoner out in the 
middle of the night; 'tis my name that Captain 
Grantley has done me the special favour of insert- 
ing in his dispatches to the Minister of War, and 
it will be my body that will be committed in dis- 
honour to the Tower. And now, my pretty Bab, 
suppose we wash our hands of these dirty politics, 
and solace ourselves with a little game of backgam- 
mon and a dish of tea? ” 

There was only one person in the world that 
this delightful mirror of the graces could not de- 
ceive with his urbanity. She chanced to be his 
daughter Bab. That young person's eyes could 
penetrate his embroidered vest and look into his 
heart, or any substitute that he wore for that im- 
portant organ. His countenance I never saw more 
easy and serene, and was good enough to cheat the 
devil with, but behind that mask his every nerve 
was quivering with an agony of shame. His sen- 
sibility to politics astonished me. This worldly 
man, this polished heathen, this ancient fop, this 
hard-bit vouCy who feared not God nor anybody; 
this scandalous Court chronicle of sixty years of 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


71 


Stuartry to be laid prone and bleeding by a frolic 
of his daughter Bab’s. ’Twas impossible, you’ll say, 
and that is what I also said, but there it was. 

“ Oh, these politics! ” cries I, in a passion. “ A 
pestilence upon ’em 1 Confound these politics ! 
And what in the world is there to make so wry a 
face about, my lord? The matter might be serious. 
Do I not repeat, sir, that the thing was but a piece 
of mischief? Call it fun, my lord, bravado, dia- 
blerie, what you will, but I want you to understand 
that ’twas a piece of mischief.” 

“ ’Tis perfectly correct,” says he; “an infernal 
piece of mischief.” 

“ Then might I ask, my lord, what there is to 
make a song about? True, the rebel is escaped, 
but I’m not sorry in the least for that ; indeed, be- 
twixt ourselves, I am somewhat glad of it. He is a 
very handsome lad, and will make a prettier man 
than any that I’ve seen. But what is there to make 
a ballad of, I ask? Is he the only rebel in the 
world then? There are thousands of rebels up and 
down the earth, and I’m sure not a man jack of 
’em’s so handsome as that lad. Why,” laughs I, 
“ he hath an eye that is a rival to my own. No, 
’twould not be truthful of me to say that I am sorry 
for it. As for the bullet that traversed Captain 
Grantley’s knee, I do indeed regret that very deeply, 
but I ask you, my lord, is his the first knee that 
hath had a bullet through it? And is it going to be 
the last? Why, at that same instant a portion of the 
same discharge hit my shoulder, too, so he is not 


72 


LADY BARBARITY. 


the only sufferer. Pah! ’twas only a piece of mis- 
chief, and my maid Emblem will tell you quite the 
same, and she should know, for she put my cloak 
on and saw me down the stairs. Why, if it comes 
to argument, my lord, the King, nor you, nor poli- 
tics, nor precious Captain Grantley hath a leg to 
stand on, and ’tis argument they say that is the 
only thing that is considered in a court of justice. 
Come, tell me is it not so, Mr. Custos Rutulorum ? ” 

“ Faith, that is so ! laughed his lordship, heart- 
ily, and he hath been on four occasions High 
Sheriff of the County; “and if they shall find a 
lawyer who may prevail against this argument of 
yours, my delightful criminal, it will have to be a 
woman, a second Portia let us say, for the man hath 
not been fashioned yet who could possibly chop 
logic with you; nay, if it comes to that,” and my 
papa stood up and bowed to the bright buckles of 
his shoes in the most flattering fashion, “ the com- 
bined genius of our sex could never hope to over- 
come in argument the dialectics of you fair, unfath- 
omable, amazing ladies.” 

Yet despite his smiling speeches the hard- 
wrought look still sat in his eyes. Then I grew 
Tower-haunted. Could it be possible that my frolic 
had so greatly shocked old, indignant, sober-sided 
Politics? But if any proof were needed to the Earl’s 
assertion that my night’s work was criminal, it was 
at my elbow. On the table I saw a sheet of the 
official blue with a brief statement of the prisoner’s 
escape upon it. It was a rather garbled version. 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


73 


for the name of me, prime agent and offender, was 
not allowed to once appear; nor were the incon- 
venient details set down at any length, but in the 
sum it said that the whole of the responsibility 
rested with my papa, the Earl, and he had affixed 
the peculiar scrawl that was his signature upon this 
preposterous indictment. The familiar way in 
which this was irresolutely writ, in his trembling, 
old, and gouty hand, affected me most strangely. 
There seemed a sort of nobility about the behaviour 
of this old barbarian; and a strain of the hero in a 
man delights me more than anything, and generally 
fills me with a sort of emulation. 

“This means the Tower!” says I, brandishing 
the paper. 

“ It does,” my lord says, inclined to be amused 
at my impetuosity. 

“ Then, sir,” says I, “ I will be mentioned in it 
fully as is my due. I did the deed, and I will take 
the recompense. If its reward is to be the Tower, I 
will claim it as my own. Therefore erase your name 
from this document, my lord, and insert the name 
of her who hath duly earned her place there.” 

“ Nay, Bab, not so,” says he. “ I gave the sol- 
diers of the King my hospitality, and now they must 
give me his.” 

“ Which they never shall,” cries I, with my 
cheeks a-flaming. “ I will go and see the Captain 
and insist upon his keeping to the truth. Oh, these 
politics! Tis well said that there is no such thing 
as rectitude in politics. But in the meantime I will 


74 


LADY BARBARITY. 


draw the teeth out of this wicked document to pre- 
vent it committing harm.” 

And under the nose of its custodian I screwed 
the paper into a ball, and planted it calmly in the 
blaze. Having watched it thoroughly consumed, 
I swept from the room to beard the Captain, and 
left “ laughter holding both his sides ” in the person 
of his lordship, who quoted Horace at me or some 
other, whom I have not sufficient Latin to locate or 
to determine. ’Twas about the Sun-God Apollo 
and his tender sentiments towards some deity with 
a cheek of fire. 

I found my worshipful friend the Captain in oc- 
cupation of the library. He was dressed rakishly in 
lavender and in a peruke that flourishes most in 
Chelsey and such-like Southern places. His shat- 
tered knee was strapped upon a board, and though 
his face was pinched with pain, it was anything but 
woeful when he gazed up from the writing-table at 
which he sat, and beheld me glide into the room. 

He was monstrous busy with a full-feathered 
quill upon a page of foolscap, the twin to the one to 
which my papa had signed his name, and that had 
been so considerately burned. 

I asked him of his hurt, and he questioned me 
of mine. Both, it seemed, were recovering excel- 
lently well. Then says I with that simplicity which 
is perhaps the most insidious weapon of all that I 
possess: 

“ My dear Captain, I have just seen a paper 
identical to the one you are now engaged upon, in 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


75 


the room of my papa. I call it very thoughtful of 
you to suppress my name in the manner that you 
do. Am I to suppose?” I inquired, with an eager- 
ness that he noticed with a gleam of pleasure, that 
you have treated my part in last night’s affair as 
kindly in this document that you are now prepar- 
ing? ” 

“ Look, my dear lady, for yourself! ” cries he, 
happy in his own adroitness. “ I will wager that 
you shall not find your name once mentioned in it.” 

My gentleman handed five close-writ sheets of 
foolscap to me to examine for myself. I scanned 
every page, and saw that it was even as he said, 
and that the case, a black one in all conscience from 
the point of view of politics, and quite enough to 
hang even a peer of the realm upon, was made out 
entirely to the prejudice of his poor old lordship. 

“ Tis true. Captain,” says I, “ that there is not a 
word of me within it. And last night at Cleeby 
without Bab Gossiter is like the tragedy of Hamlet 
without the Prince of Denmark. Tis utterly worth- 
less, sir. As a truthful narrative it is inadequate, 
but is none the less a very pretty fairy-tale. But 
in this cold and unromantic age of Politics, pleas- 
ing fictions are popular. Therefore, dear Captain, I 
think it better that it were suppressed. And I do 
not doubt if it be any consolation to you, sir, for the 
futile pains you have spent upon this document, 
that one day all the Prime Ministers and Privy 
Councillors, and stout Whigs and arrant Tories, 
and every kind of politician that ever was or ever 
6 


76 


LADY BARBARITY. 


will be, will fizzle just as briskly and completely to- 
gether in another hemisphere, as these five papers 
this instant do in this.” 

And in the course of this decisive statement I 
tucked the five papers deeply in the grate, saw them 
turn black in a twinkling, and then turned round to 
enjoy the industrious writer’s countenance. 

To prove how little this summary deed affected 
him he selected another sheet without granting me 
a word of any sort, took a new dip of ink, and calmly 
re-began his labour. 

“ Come, sir,” says I, tartly, “ do you not see the 
nonsense of it? You know quite well. Captain, it 
was I who wrought the mischief of last night; and 
if it hath earned Old Bailey and the Tower, I am 
determined not to flinch from my deserts.” 

“ My Lady Barbara,” says he, with an elegance 
that disarmed my anger, “ it is the desire of his 
lordship and my humble self to spare so much wit 
and beauty these indignities. Besides, one really 
must be considerate of the Justices. Assuming that 
the Court found you guilty of this crime, there is 
not a Judge upon the Bench with sufficient tenacity 
of mind to pass a sentence on you.” 

“ Why, of course there’s not,” says I, compla- 
cently. “ I foresaw that all along.” 

But there was indeed a conspiracy between 
these gentlemen, and I tried very hard to break up 
this cabal, that I might stand or fall upon the conse- 
quences of my act. Now when I was a very little 
girl I had only to stamp my foot, and dart a fiery 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


77 


glance or two, to obtain my way with any man, be- 
ginning with my papa, the Earl. And from that 
time, either in London or the country, whether the 
unresisting male was a marquis or a hosier, I had 
only to grow imperious to bend him to my will. 
But now old Politics, that square-toed Puritan, was 
here, and a pretty game he played. For the first 
time in my history I could not persuade, direct, or 
browbeat my papa, who was the best-brought-up 
parent of any girl’s in England. And then there 
was this foppish officer, who would have died for 
me in Kensington, as inflexible as steel before my 
downright anger. 

“ Captain,” says I, for the tenth time, “ I never 
saw such monstrous fables as are put into these 
papers. And I give you warning, sir, that if these 
falsehoods are sent to London, and the soldiers 
come for my papa, the Earl, I will post to town 
myself, and tell the judges all about it privately.” 

‘‘I suppose you mean the Government?” says 
he, smiling for some reason. 

“Judges, Government, and King, I’ll see ’em 
all ! ” cries I, fiercely, “ for they’re all tainted with 
the same disease, and that disease is Politics. And 
I’ll accost every power in the kingdom rather than 
my lord shall go to prison in the room of me. And 
Captain, I would have you prepare yourself, as you 
are the person I shall call in evidence to prove 
’twas I who let the prisoner out.” 

“ Madam does me great honour,” says the silken 
villain, “ but all I know of last night is that the. 


78 


LADY BARBARITY. 


prisoner escaped. I do not know who enabled him 
to do so, and I do not greatly care. But ’twas a 
member or members of his lordship’s household, 
and the entire responsibility rests with that gentle- 
man.” 

As the Captain desired to continue with his writ- 
ing, I thought it the more graceful to withdraw. 
This I did, and shut myself up in privacy, for my 
mind was filled with grave considerations. In a 
day and a few hours over, my existence had become 
a terribly complicated matter. There was the pris- 
oner. My life had long been waiting for a man to 
step into it. A man last night had done so, and I 
wished that he had not. For in spite of myself, 
all my thoughts were just now centred in his for- 
tunes. Would he escape? And if he were retaken? 
That second question sent a new idea into my 
head, and straight I went and consulted the Captain 
on it. 

If,” says I, “ the prisoner is brought back by 
your men, sir, you will not need to report the mat- 
ter of his escape to the Government? ” 

He looked at me quickly with a keen twinkle in 
his eye that appeared to spring from pleasure, and 
then answered, glib as possible : 

“ That event will indeed supply an abrogation 
of this unpleasing duty. But he must be retaken 
within a week. Understand that, my Lady Barbara. 
If he is not in my hands within that period there is 
nothing for it but to dispatch these papers to the 
King.” 


I MIX IN THE HIGH POLITICAL. 


79 


My question seemed so exactly to his mind 
that he could hardly restrain a chuckle. But I soon 
provided a bitter antidote to his satisfaction. 

“ Captain,” says I, “ I hate you. I would rather 
have one hand cut off than that poor prisoner lad 
should be brought back and hanged at Tyburn in 
his shame. And I would sooner the other hand 
should perish too than that the Earl, my father, 
should be committed in his age in dishonour to a 
gaol. Captain, I repeat, I hate you ! ” 

I meant every word of what I said, and my voice 
made no disguise of its sincerity. And at last I had 
found a tender place in the Captain’s armour. My 
words left him livid as his wig. At once I saw why 
he was affected so. The Captain was in love, and 
the object of his passion had just told him in the 
frankest terms how much she was prepared to sac- 
rifice for the sake of another man. I will admit 
that my handling of the Captain was not too tender. 
But let us grant full deserts, even to the devil. I 
had hit the Captain pretty hard, but beyond a slight 
betrayal of its immediate shock, the blow was ac- 
cepted beautifully. Without a word he went on 
writing, and in despite of the cruel situation he had 
put me in, and the hatred that I bore towards him, 
he forced me to admire his nature in its silken 
strength. And for that night at least I could not 
rid my brain of the picture that he made, as he sat 
writing his dispatches in the library with the lamp 
and firelight playing on his livid face and his in- 
creasing labours. I began to fear that a second man 
had come into my life. 


CHAPTER VI. 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 

If the prisoner were retaken in a week, the Earl, 
my papa, would have a pardon! This was indeed 
a grim fiat to take to bed and sleep upon. What 
was this rebel to me that I should be so concerned 
for him? Why should he not perish at Tyburn for 
his deeds, as had been the fate of more considerable 
men? He was but a baker’s son. I had only ex- 
changed a glance and a few broken sentences with 
him in all my life, yet never once did I close my 
eyes that night but I saw him in the cart and the 
topsman preparing to fulfil his gruesome offices. 
More than once had curiosity prompted me to sit 
at a window with my friends, as was the fashion, 
and watch these malefactors hang. A kick at space, 
and all was over! But this handsome youth, with 
the fiery look, a baker’s son, who had committed 
crimes against the State — must he, a child, be 
strung up in ignominy? Brooding on this horrid 
matter through this interminable night, I grew so 
feverish and restless that sleep was banished utter- 
ly. At last I could endure my bed no more. I rose 
and covered up my nightrail with a cloak, relit the 
8o 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 8 1 


lamp, and read the timepiece. It wanted twenty 
minutes to three at present. 

‘‘Faugh!” I pondered, “these lonely specula- 
tions are so unendurable that I will fetch Emblem 
to bear me company the remainder of the night.” 

But everything outside seemed muffled in such 
silence as with the hush of snow, that ere I started 
for her chamber I drew the blinds up of my own 
and looked out into the park. 

Snow indeed! Quite a fall of it, though it now 
had ceased. The moon was shining on the breadths 
of white; every tree stood up weird and spectral, 
and such a perishing cold presided over all that the 
whole of Nature seemed to be succumbing to the 
blight of it. The lamp I held against the pane 
struck out for a quarter of a mile across the mead- 
ows and revealed the gaunt, white woods of Cleeby 
sleeping in the cold paleness of moon and snow. 
The night appeared to hold its breath in awe at 
the wonderful fair picture the white earth presented. 
And very soon I did also, but for a different reason. 

To my left hand a hedge that stood a distance 
off was plainly to be seen. Suddenly a figure 
emerged stealthily from under it. Twas that of a 
man, who after looking cautiously about him began 
in a crouching and furtive fashion to approach the 
house. 

He came creeping slowly through the snow, and 
at every yard he made it seemed as much as ever 
he could do to drag one leg behind the other. Once 
he stopped to listen and observe, and apparently 


82 


LADY BARBARITY. 


heard sounds that did disquiet him, for he speedily 
resumed his motion, and at a more rapid pace than 
formerly. His form grew sharper and clearer as he 
came, and soon the moonlight fell on it so distinctly 
that I presently recoiled from the window with a 
thrill of very horror. It was the fugitive! 

I think I was more frightened than surprised. 
During the weary vigil of that night this wanderer 
had held such entire dominion of my thoughts that 
after my brain had been fretted into a fever on his 
account, it seemed one of the most natural conse- 
quences to step from my bed and discover the cause 
of my distraction coming towards me through the 
night. 

I quite supposed that his enemies had managed 
to turn him from the north, and that finding himself 
without money or any resources for escape, he had 
returned to Cleeby to implore the aid of the only 
friend he had in the cruel country of his foes. Yet 
his movements were so mysterious that I was by 
no means certain that this was so. Instead of com- 
ing underneath the window in which the blinds 
were up and a lamp was burning, that he should 
have known was mine (my figure must have been 
presented to him as clearly as by day), he renounced 
the front of the house entirely and turned into a 
path that led to the stables and kitchen offices on 
the servants’ side. 

To try and find a motive for his action I pulled 
up the casement softly and thrust my head forth 
into the stinging air. Certain sounds at once dis- 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 83 

turbed the almost tragic hush, and assailed my ears 
so horridly that I hastily withdrew them and shut 
the window down. The poor lad’s pursuers were 
shouting and holloaing from a distant meadow. In 
half an hour at most they must run the wretch to 
earth, for they were horsed, and he was not ; besides, 
his painful gait told how nearly he was beaten. 

They say that the deeds of women are the fruit 
of sentiment, and after this strange night I, for one, 
will not dispute with the doctors on that theory. 
There was no particular reason why I should give 
a second thought to the fate of this hunted rebel, 
this baker’s son, this proletariat. Nay, the sooner 
he was retaken the better for myself and my papa. 
Yet at three of the clock that snowy morning I did 
not review his end with such a cold, complacent 
heart. His affairs seemed very much my own. 
Once when I had played the friend to him his brave 
eyes had delighted and inspired me. No, I would 
not sit down tamely and let him perish. Why 
should I — I whose spirit was adventurous? 

Therefore, my determination taken, I wisely put 
the lamp out, that its brightness might not attract 
attention from those enemies scouring the fields, 
then proceeded silently but swiftly to get into my 
clothes. Never was I drest less carefully, but 
haste meant the salvation of a friend. Warmly 
shod and clad, I descended the stairs with expedi- 
tious quietude, groped to the left at the bottom of 
the staircase, through dark doors and the ghostly 
silence of moonlit and deserted passages, until I 


84 


LADY BARBARITY. 


reached the kitchen part. Soon I found an outer 
door, unlocked it, slipped the bolt, and stepped into 
the night. The slight, soft breathing of a frost wind 
came upon my face, and a few straggling white 
flakes rode at intervals upon it, but only a film of 
snow was on the yard, of no more consistency than 
thistledown, but the sharp air was wonderfully 
keen. 

However, ’twas precious little heed I paid the 
elements. The shoutings of the soldiers from the 
meadows was even distincter than before, and by 
that I knew the men were moving in the direction 
of the rebel and the house, and that if I hoped to 
put the lad in some safety not an instant must be 
lost. First, though, I had to find him. 

I peered particularly on all sides for the fugitive, 
but failed to discover a solitary trace, and yet there 
was such a lustre in the hour’s bright conditions 
that the yard was nearly as luminous as day. Sure 
I was, however, that he must be close at hand, and 
accordingly was mighty energetic in my quest. 
And I had taken twenty steps or less when my eyes 
lit on a stable with an open door. Immediately I 
walked towards it, and as I did so, remembered 
that this was the very prison in which the lad had 
been previously held. This time there was not a 
bayonet and a sentry to repulse one, else a strategy 
had been called for; but, walking boldly in, I was 
rewarded for my labours. The prisoner was lying 
in the straw in the very posture of the night be- 
fore. No sooner was my shadow thrown across his 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 8$ 

eyes than he rose to his feet with every evidence 
of pain, and, casting the pistol I had lately given 
him upon the ground, said: 

“All right, I am taken; I submit without re- 
sistance.” 

“ On the contrary, my friend,” I answered an- 
grily, being bitterly disappointed of his character, 
“ you are not taken, other than extremely with 
your cowardice. You do not care for fighting at 
close quarters, I observe. Bah ! ” and I turned my 
back upon him. 

“ My benefactress ! ” he cried, in a strangely 
altered tone, “ my benefactress ! What do you here 
at this place, and at this hour? ” 

“What did I here before?” I said in scorn. 
“ And why, sir, may I ask, are you not footing it 
to Scotland, as I ordered you, instead of returning 
in your tracks? I suppose it is, my gallant, that 
rather than help yourself, you would choose to 
throw yourself upon the mercy of a friend, heedless 
of what degree she is incriminated so long as she 
can contrive to shield your valuable person. So 
you submit without resistance, do you?” 

He was very white and weary, and his breast 
was heaving yet with the urgence of his flight, but 
it pleased me to discover that my speeches stung. 

“ As you will, madam,” he answered, with a 
head upthrown, but also with a quietude that had 
a fire underneath, “as you will; but you are a 
woman and my benefactress, and I bend the knee 
before you.” 


86 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Not even that,” says 1. “ Do you suppose I 
will take a coward for my servant? ” 

“ Madam,” says he, “ say no more of this, for 
perhaps you would regret it at another time; and, 
madam, do you know that you are the last person 
in the world that I would have regret anything 
whatever? You have been so much my friend.” 

“ Thank you,” says I, bitingly; “ but, Mr. Cow- 
ard, you infer that when I act in the capacity of 
your friend I enjoy a privilege. Let me assure 
you I am deeply honoured by it.” 

“ Oh,” says he, “ how good of you to think so! ” 

This was staggering simplicity, for I judged 
him to be too young to be ironical. 

“ But hark! ” says he, “ I hear the soldiers shout- 
ing and approaching. I must beg you, madam, to 
leave me to my fate; but do not think too hardly of 
my cowardice.” 

“ Then I will not leave you to your fate,” says 
1. “ ’Tis not in my nature, however I may despise 
your character, having once befriended you to de- 
sert you at the last. I came forth in this wintry 
night especially to save you, and that is what 
ril do.” 

“ No, no, madam,” he replied, “ I will not have 
you further prejudice yourself with his Majesty for 
the sake of me.” 

Now I could only accept this answer as some- 
thing of an outlet for his wounded feelings, seeing 
that he must be back in his present spot expressly 
to implore my further aid. 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 8/ 

“ Mr. Coward,” says I, “ I think you will, and 
readily, when you reflect that certain death awaits 
you, should you spurn my offices.” 

“ I think not,” says he, with a stoutness that 
astonished me. 

You think not! ” cries I, “ why, what in won- 
der's name hath brought you back to the very spot 
you started from, if 'tis not to beseech my farther 
aid?” 

“ Madam,” he said, “ had you refrained from 
my defamation I would not have told you this. But 
I will, to clear my name, for I could not bear to 
walk the scaffold with such a stigma on it.” 

“ Bravo! ” says I; “ boy, you use the grand man- 
ner like an orator. What was the school in which 
you learnt your rhetoric? ” 

“ 'Tis the very one in which you learnt your 
gentleness,” says he. 

Being at a loss to answer him I made haste to 
turn the theme by warning him of his foes’ approach 
and his great danger. 

“ The sooner they are come,” he said, the 
better I’ll be suited. But if you must know why 
I am here to-night, ’tis you that brought me, 
madam.” 

I put my finger up and said : “ Pray be careful, 
Mr. Coward, or I shall not believe you.” 

“ When my enemies four times foiled me,” he 
said, '' in my attempts to make the north, and feel- 
ing that I had neither friends nor money in the 
south, that there every man would be my enemy, I 


88 


LADY BARBARITY. 


knew that sooner or later I must be caught. It 
then occurred to me that your kindness, madam, 
towards a rebel had probably exposed you to a 
severe penalty from a Government that respects not 
any person. Wherefore, I thought, should I de- 
liver up my body in the very prison that I had lately 
broken, without any prejudice to my foes or to my- 
self, the matter might be simplified, and as no one 
had been incommoded, your pardon would perhaps 
be made the easier.” 

I knew this for the truth, as the simple and deep 
sincerity of his words cast me in a miserable rage 
at my own impulsiveness. This speech had taught 
me that his behaviour, instead of being craven, 
verged perilously near the fine. And of course in 
the height of the mortified anger that I indulged 
against myself, the moon must choose that moment 
to throw her rays about the lad’s white face, that 
made it even sterner and stronger than before. 

“ And,” says I, “ had it not been for thoughts of 
me, what had you done when you found your plight 
extreme? ” 

“ A bullet would have done my business,” he 
answered, with an eager, almost joyful, promptness, 
that showed how welcome to him was that prospect 
of escape. “ Anything is kinder than Tyburn in 
the cart, madam. I would have you believe that 
even I have my niceties, and they draw the line 
at the ignominy of the mob.” 

I chewed my lips in silence for a time, and you 
may be sure should have been very willing to forget 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 89 

the epithet I had so unsparingly clapped upon his 
conduct. 

“My lad,” says I, “confound you! Why 
couldn’t you contrive to let me know, you unreason- 
able being, that a deed like this was in your mind? 
You wretched men are all alike, so monstrously un- 
reasonable! How should I know that when you 
threw your pistol down you were trying to play the 
gentleman? I say, confound you! But here, here’s 
my hand. Kiss it, and we’ll say no more about it.” 

The lad went gallantly upon one knee in the 
straw, like a very well-bred person, and did as he 
was bidden, with something of a relish too. 

“ Mr. Baker’s Son,” says I, “ I confess that I 
should be glad to see you rather more diffident at 
the audacity of this; and a little more humbly re- 
joiceful in your fortune. For, my lad, you are the 
first of your tribe and species to be thus honoured. 
And you will be the last. I’m thinking.” 

“ I am none so sure of that,” says he, with a 
marvellous equanimity, “ for that depends upon my 
tribe and species. If they ever should desire to kiss 
your hand, I reckon that they’ll do so.” 

“ Don’t be saucy, sir,” says I, and put an im- 
perious warning in my tone. 

“Humph!” says he, “I’ll admit it is a nice, 
clean, white one, and not so very fat. But when all 
is claimed, 'tis but a mortal woman’s.” 

“Come, sir,” I says, “this is not the time for 
talk. Not an instant must we lose if you are to es- 
cape the soldiers.” 


90 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ But, madam, I do not intend to escape them,” 
he replied. 

This startled and annoyed me, and promptly did 
I show him my displeasure. 

Nay, madam,” he said, “ you have risked too 
much on my account already. I repeat, it was to 
lessen your culpability that I am come back to 
prison. Therefore, can you suppose that I will al- 
low you to farther incriminate yourself? ” 

“ Bah ! ” says I, “ you had not these scruples 
formerly.” 

“ No,” says he, “ and it is my shame. I was 
unthoughtful.” 

“ And do you suppose,” says I, “ that if so much 
as my little finger were endangered in your service, 
that I would risk it? ” 

“ You would,” says he, “ for your high temper 
is writ upon your face. If my shoe required buck- 
ling, and she who buckled it did so at the peril of 
her neck, you would attempt the deed if you had 
the inclination. Ha! madam, I think I can read 
your wilfulness.” 

For the moment I was baffled, as I had to admit 
that he read it very well. 

“ The danger,” I rejoined, “ is quite nothing, I 
am certain. My papa, the Earl, hath a great inter- 
est with the Government. He can turn it round 
his little finger.” 

Can he so? ” says he. “ Then let him procure 
my pardon, for I would not willingly risk again the 
safety of his daughter.” 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 91 

“ He would not procure your pardon,” I re- 
plied, “ for the good reason that he abhors all rebels 
and their work. Yet he is strong enough to protect 
his daughter if the need arose.” 

This was flat lying, I believe, but when one is 
hard pressed one is rather summary with truth. 

The lad was immovable as rock, though. His 
conduct threw me in a pet of downright anger and 
alarm. Having made my mind up long ago to save 
him if I could, and having planned it all so per- 
fectly, ’twas not my disposition to let his foolish 
scruples interfere. 

“ My lad,” says I, flashing out at him, “ any 
more of these absurdities and you will put me in a 
thorough rage. Come, we must not lose an instant 
now. Why do you view your life so lightly? ” 

“ I only view it lightly where your safety is con- 
cerned, dear lady,” he replied, with a spice of the 
proper gallantry. 

“ It would require a person of a higher calibre 
than yours to affect it any way, either with the 
world or with the Government,” I answered, harsh- 
ly. “ My Lady Barbara Gossiter is able to take 
care of herself. Til hazard.” 

“ My Lady Barbara Gossiter! ” he echoed, 
‘‘whew! this is interesting. Now madam, do you 
know that I took you for a great lady at a glance! 
But ril confess that I thought you scarcely such a 
personage.” 

I should have liked this confession better had 
there been more of embarrassment about it. But 
7 


92 


LADY BARBARITY. 


this baker’s son was as greatly at his ease as ever. 
I laughed and said: “ Sir, you should reserve your 
judgment of my qualities until you see them under- 
neath the candelabra instead of underneath the 
moon. But I think you will admit, sir, that I am 
one who should be strong enough to shield herself 
against the State if necessary.” 

“ Madam,” says he, and his proposal staggered 
me, “ I will put my life in your hands once more on 
this condition: that you swear solemnly upon oath 
that you shall run no danger in my affair.” 

Was anything more delightfully or more boy- 
ishly naive? I fear that I should have betrayed 
some laughter had he not worn a face of gravity, 
that said my word would have been unaccepted had 
I given him reason to suppose I was not equally as 
serious as he. 

“ Swear,” says I, “of course I’ll swear. There 
is not the remotest peril in the case.” I think it was 
a miracle that choked my mirth back. 

“ Very well,” says he, with a boon-conferring 
air, “ I will remit myself entirely to your hands.” 

“ ’Tis very good of you to do so,” says I, re- 
markably relieved, yet even more amused. “ And 
now then follow me, sir, and I will take you into 
safety.” 

But alas ! we had tarried over long. Escape was 
now cut off. I had no sooner stepped outside the 
stable than I fled back in such a haste of fear that 
I nearly fell into the arms of the fugitive, who was 
obediently following. For the soldiers had arrived 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 93 

at last, and I could see them leading their weary 
horses across the yard in the very direction of this 
block of stables that we occupied. 

“ Up, up,” I whispered my companion, “ into 
the manger, force the hay-trap and mount into the 
loft! Up, J say! Can’t you hear their feet upon 
the yard? ” 

“ After you,” says he, “ I would not have these 
men see you for the world.” 

“ Oh, what madness, boy! ” I cried; don’t you 
hear them coming? Another moment and you are 
ta’en. ’Tis you, not me, they’re seeking.” 

“ Madam, after you,” says he. 

“ Then I won’t,” says I ; “ I will not be badgered 
by anybody.” 

’Twas then that this delightful youth acted in a 
way that I could never sufficiently admire. He 
•drew up his form and looked upon me with all the 
majesty of six husbands made in one, and pointed 
with his finger to the trap. Madam,” says he, in 
a terribly stern voice, you will go up first, for I’m 
infernal certain I won’t ! ” 

At another season I must have dallied to enjoy 
the situation; but, knowing that the life of so re- 
markable a boy depended wholly on my obedience, 
I went up willy nilly. 

With his assistance, I had soon scrambled into 
the manger, and had been pushed most comically 
upwards through the trap ; whilst he came on my 
heels with a cat’s agility, the pistol in his teeth. On 
the instant we composed ourselves in security in 


94 


LADY BARBARITY. 


the Straw, and in such a posture that we could enjoy 
a full view of the trap, peer down there through, 
and observe the movements of our enemies should 
they enter the lower chamber. 

As it proved, we were not a second too early 
in our hiding. A clattering of hoofs announced 
that the horses had come to the stable door; and 
it was to our dire misfortune that their riders here 
dismounted and held a council, whose import was 
the reverse of comforting. Leaving their animals 
outside, they sought the protection of the stable 
against the bitter air, and without restraint dis- 
cussed their future courses. From our vantage in 
the upper chamber we looked down and listened 
with all ears through the trap ; and, as they had 
evidently not the least knowledge of our presence 
there, we felt quite a keen enjoyment in the situ- 
ation, which was terribly dashed, however, by thd 
resolution they arrived at. 

“ You men,^' says one, with the authority proper 
to a corporal — Corporal Flickers was his title, as 
later I learned to my sorrow — you men, this fox 
is a knowin' varmint. Why did he come back 
here? I puts it to you. Why did he come back 
here? ” 

’Cause o’ me lady,” was suggested by one of 
his companions. 

Eggsac’ly,” says the Corporal. “ George, 
you’re knowin’, you are, you take my word for that. 
’Cause o’ me lady. And if I was to have a free 
hand wi’ my lady, what is it Fd do to her? ” 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 95 

Screw her blazin’ neck,” suggested the same 
authority. 

“ Eggsac’ly,” says the Corporal ; “ screw her 
blazin neck. George, you’re knowin’, you are. 
Oh the air’stocracy ! They never was no good to 
England, and durn me if they don’t get wuss. 
Never did no honest labour in their naturals. Lives 
high ; drinks deep — ow ! 'it turns me pink to men- 
tion ’em. It does, George Marshal ; it does, John 
Pensioner; fair congests my liver. And fer braz- 
ing plucky impidence their wimmen is the wust. 
This here ladyship in perticular, a sweet piece, isn’t 
she? Never does a stitch o’ honest labour, but sucks 
pep’mint to find a thirst, and bibs canary wine to 
quench it. And it’s you and me, George, you and 
me, John, as pervides this purple hussy wi’ canary 
wine and pep’mint. Us I say, honest tillers o’ the 
land, honest toilers o’ the sea, as is the prop o’ 
this stupendjous air’stocracy. It’s we, I say, what 
finds ’em in canary wine and pep’mint. Poor we, 
the mob, the scum, the three-damned we what’s 
not agoing to hewing when we dies. But who’s 
this ladyship as she should let a prisoner out in 
the middle o’ the night, and sends six humble men 
but honest a-scourin’ half Yorkshire for him. As 
Joseph Flickers alius was polite he’ll not tell you 
what her name is, but do you know what Joe’d do 
if he had a daughter who grew up to be a ladyship 
like her? ” 

“ Drown her,” Mr. George modestly suggested. 

“ George,” says the Corporal, in a tone of ad- 


LADY BARBARITY. 


96 

miration, “ you are smart, my boy, downright smart, 
that’s what you are! Drown her’s what I’d do, 
with her best dress and Sunday bonnet on. I 
should take her so, by the back of her commode, 
gently but firmly, George, and lead her to the 
Ouse. And then I should say, ‘ Ladyship, I al- 
lows you five minutes fer your prayers, for they 
never was more needed ; because, ladyship, I’m 
a-going to drown you, like I would a ordinary cat 
what strays upon the tiles at night, and says there 
what she shouldn’t say. Ow, you besom wi’ your 
small feet and your mincing langwidge, you should 
smell hell if Joseph Flickers was your pa! ” 

Now I have sat long and often in a playhouse, 
but Sir John Vanbrugh, Mr. William Congreve, 
and all those other celebrated gentlemen of mirth 
have yet to give me an entertainment I enjoyed half 
so much as this. There was something so utterly 
delightful in the idea of Corporal Joseph Flickers 
being my papa, and his conception of a parent’s 
duties in that case, that I had perforce to stuff my 
cloak into my mouth' to prevent my laughter dis- 
turbing my denouncers. 

Next moment, though, there was scanty cause 
for mirth. The Corporal, having delivered this tre- 
mendous speech with a raucous eloquence, gave it 
as his opinion that the prisoner had already been 
let into the house with my connivance, and that I 
had put him in hiding there. They were unanimous 
in this, and came to the conclusion that he would 
abide some hours there at least, as he had been so 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 97 

Sternly chased that he could not crawl another mile. 
This was true enough, as their quarry took occa- 
sion to whisper as they said so. It was considered 
inadvisable to challenge the house just then; the 
majority of its inmates being abed, the night not 
yet lifted, and therefore favouring concealment, and, 
above all, they were full of weariness themselves, 
and their horses beaten. Accordingly they deter- 
mined to put them up, and also to allow their own 
weariness a few hours of much needed ease. 

“ Even us, the mob, the scum, can’t go on for 
ever; what do you say, John Pensioner? ” the Cor- 
poral remarked. 

“ Truest word you’ve spoke this moon, Joe,” 
John Pensioner asserted, with a yawn for testimony. 

“Where’ll we sleep, though, Corp’ral?” in- 
quires my friend, Mr. George. 

“ There’s a hayloft top o’ this,” the Corporal 
replied; “pretty snug wi’ straw and fodder. 
Roomy, too ; bed six like blazes. And warm, 
warm as that ’ere hussy of a ladyship will be in 
the other life, when the devil gives her pep’mint 
but no canary wine.” 

“ The very spot ! ” by general acclamation. 

I could have cried out in my rage. This meant 
simply that we must be taken like a brace of pheas- 
ants in a snare. With the soldiers already estab- 
lished underneath there did not appear the remotest 
possibility of escape. 

“ The game’s up, madam,” the poor prisoner 
whispered to me, while I whispered curtly back 


LADY BARBARITY. 


98 

again that I’d be better suited if he’d hold his 
tongue. 

“ But you, my dear lady, you ? ” says he, heed- 
less of my sharp reply, ’twill never do for you to 
be discovered with me thus. Nay, you shall not. 
Rat me, but I have a plan ! They are still under- 
neath this trap, you see, assembled in a talk. I’ll 
drop down in their midst, scuffle with ’em, and 
while we are thus engaged, you can get from here 
into the yard, and slip back to the house unseen, 
and so leave them none the wiser.” 

“ Very pretty,” says I, “ but how am I to get 
from here into the yard? It means a ten-feet drop 
upon weak ankles, for the ladder, you observe, is no 
longer there.” 

‘‘ Confound it ! ” says he. I’d forgot the lad- 
der. Of course it is not there. What a fool I am ! 
But ’00ns ! here’s a means to overcome it, madam. 
We’ll drop a truss of straw down, and that will 
break your fall if you leap upon it carefully.” 

“ I’m to run away, then, while you, my lad, are 
to be delivered up to death ? ” 

“ Perhaps,” he dubiously said ; “ but then I am 
the least to be considered.” 

“ Then I intend to do nothing of the sort,” says 
I. “ ’Tis like man’s vanity to cast himself for the 
part of hero. But I think I can strut through that 
part just as handsomely as you.” 

“ You have your reputation, madam, to con- 
sider,” he reminded me. “ They surely must not 
find you here.” 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 99 

“ A fig for reputation and her dowager pro- 
prieties. Am I not a law unto myself ? 

This was a simulated flippancy, however, for we 
were in a grievous situation now. But the desper- 
ation of it spurred me, and very soon I found a 
plan by which the fugitive might after all go free. 
It called for a pretty daring act, and much kind 
fortune in its execution. Adventure nothing, noth- 
ing win, is however the device by which I am only 
too prone to order my behaviour. For even grant- 
ing that your effort fails, the excitement it engen- 
ders is something of a compensation. 

Briefly, my stratagem was this. I would ex- 
change cloaks with the rebel, muffling my form up 
thoroughly in his military article, and don his 
three-cornered hat in lieu of the hood I wore. Thus 
arrayed, ^twas not too much to think that when 
his enemies caught a view of me in the uncertain 
moonlight, and expecting to see the prisoner there 
and at that season, they would mistake me for him. 
In an undertone that admitted of no parley I caused 
the prisoner to effect this alteration in his attire, 
and having done so speedily, I gave him further of 
my plan. 

“ My lad,’' says I, “ let us drop that truss of 
straw down, as you said, but we must take care that 
none of them see us do so. I am then to fall upon 
it, and having done so safely, shall contrive to ad- 
vertise them of the fact. And when they run forth 
to seize me I shall flee hot foot across the park. 
They will, of course, pursue. Then, sir, will be 


lOO 


LADY BARBARITY. 


your time. While we are having our diversion in 
the grass, the path will be open for your flight into 
the house. You will find one of the kitchen bolts 
unslipped, and on my return I shall expect to then 
discover you awaiting further orders.'^ 

‘‘ ^Tis a sweet invention, madam,” he replied, 
but how shall you fare when they catch you and 
your identity is known ? ” 

“ The chances are,” I answered stoutly, “ that 
they will not catch me. A thick wood infringes 
on the path a quarter of a mile away. If I once 
reach that, and I think I can, for these men 
are dogweary and I shall have a start of them, 
ril wager that I am not ta’en. For I could 
traverse every inch of that wood in the darkest 
night.” 

The rebel was exceedingly loth to let me do this. 
But the more I pondered the idea, the more I be- 
came enamoured of it ; small the danger, the exer- 
tion not excessive, the prospect of success consid- 
erable, the promise of diversion great. There was 
all to win and nought to lose, I told him. Besides, 
in the end I did not condescend to argue, but sim- 
ply set my foot down and led him to understand 
that when Bab Gossiter had made her mind up no 
mortal man could say her nay. 

Therefore he submitted, with a degree of reluc- 
tancy, of course; yet none the less did he obey me 
to the letter. First we peered down through the 
trap to see what our enemies were at. They were 
succouring their horses. This being a three-stall 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. loi 

Stable only, three of their steeds had to be else- 
where furnished. The Corporal, John Pensioner, 
and another soldier, had led their animals into the 
one we occupied, whilst the others had taken theirs 
to the one adjoining. Choosing a moment when 
all the men were in the stables the prisoner dropped 
a truss of straw down gently ten feet to the stones. 
Then we listened painfully to learn if this move- 
ment had been discerned by those within. Seem- 
ingly they were all unconscious of it, for they went 
on uninterruptedly in the bedding of their horses. 
Therefore the moment was still propitious, and I 
ventured my descent. Quickly I stepped to the 
edge of the loft, got through the wide bars that en- 
closed the provender, dropped upon my knees, 
tightly grasped my companion’s outstretched hands, 
swayed an instant above the space that intervened 
between me and the straw, was lowered several 
inches nearer to the ground by virtue of the rebel’s 
offices, then renounced my grasp of him and leapt 
lightly on to the cushion that awaited me beneath. 
The shock of the fall was of the slightest, and left 
me ready for an immediate flight. This was truly 
fortunate, as it was evident that my descent had 
been duly noted by the Corporal and his men. 
Hearing a commotion in the stable and various 
astonished cries, I began to run at once, and was, 
perhaps, the best part of a hundred yards away ere 
they came fuming and shouting from the stables 
and were at last alive to my retreat. 

The horses, men, the horses ! ” bawled the 


102 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Corporal, never doubting that it was the prisoner in 
full flight. 

To lead forth their weary beasts, to saddle them, 
and to coax them to pursuit meant such a loss of 
time that I was far out in the middle of the park 
ere they had started on their way. I headed straight 
for the gaunt, shadowy line of woods that looked 
the veritable haunt of ghosts and the supernatural 
with their deep, dark masses of tree and foliage 
bathed in the eerieness of snow and moonlight. It 
always was my pride that, though a woman of the 
mode, I could, when in the country, run both easily 
and lightly, being blessed with the nimblest feet 
and a stride which, if not an athlete’s, had at least 
a spring and quickness in it not to be despised. 

Further, it was easy running across the soft thin 
carpet of the snow, whilst the flakes had ceased to 
fall, and the bitter wind was dead. I was soon 
aware, however, that it was to be the sternest race. 
Once mounted and away, the hunters decreased the 
wide distance that was between us mighty soon. 
And presently I knew that my long start would 
prove not a yard too much to enable me to reach the 
woods. In a little while, being in no state for such 
violent and prolonged exertion, my chest became 
restricted and my breath grew dreadfully distressed. 
And every moment my pursuers drew more near. 
Therefore, despite my discomforts, I set my teeth 
and trotted on as determinedly as ever ; and I would 
have you to believe that I felt a fierce delight in 
doing so, for after long months of a suppressed and 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 103 

artificial course of life, this strange race in the snow 
seemed a return to very nature. Sure, this tense, 
exhilarating agony of hope and fear and hot-breath- 
ing energy were worth a hundred triumphs in the 
drawing-room ! 

Yard by yard the horses ran me down. But I 
had fixed my eyes upon those weird trees ahead, 
that assumed shapes more palpable and familiar as 
I ran ; and though I could hear the perpetual shout- 
ings and hoof-thuds of my enemies, I never once 
looked back, but trotted valiantly on with a mind 
for nothing but the woods. There was no time 
then to enjoy the quaintness of the matter, or to 
laugh at my ridiculous employ. However, that 
lack hath been made up later. Soon I was so near 
the trees that I could plainly see the ditch I had to 
cross, and the very gap the hither side it in the fence 
that I proposed to scramble through. The prox- 
imity of safety lent me strength, and for a few yards 
my failing pace was perceptibly improved. 

Here I had a horrid fright. My feet were almost 
on those dim, mysterious woods, the snow upon 
them pure, the moon upon them eerie, and such a 
mighty silence in the trees that if a squirrel cracked 
a beech twig the report of it rang among them like 
a gun, when a pistol barked out loud and brutally, 
and a bullet whistled by my ear and pattered omi- 
nously in the ditch. Twas a very cruel, peremptory 
means, I thought, and my heart stood still with ter- 
ror. Not my feet, forsooth, for fear was a sharp 
spur to their flagging ardour. I durst not look be- 


104 


LADY BARBARITY. 


hind, but the shot informed me that, despite the 
perilous nearness of my pursuers, they saw that I 
must be the first within the wood, where horses 
could not follow, and among that continent of 
branch and herbage they knew that their search 
must prove most difficult. Evidently they meant to 
stay my entrance, cost what it may. 

Another shot yelped out at me, another, and 
then another. One touched my hat, I think, but 
that was all. Verily the devil was wonderfully kind 
this morning. 

And strange as you may think it, I felt pretty 
callous to these bullets. Nay, I was not afraid of 
anything. My spirit had thrown for once the fet- 
ters of convention off. It was itself for one brief 
hour. It was part of the earth and the trees, 
the snow and the moonlight ; free as air and primi- 
tive as nature. ’Twas running unimpeded under 
God’s moon, without any of our eighteenth-century 
fopperies of brocades and powders on it. 

I scrambled through the ditch and out again, 
brushed through the hedge-gap at the cost of cloak 
rents and a briar in my hand, and found myself 
within the thicket. I plunged into the deepest I 
could find, but as I did so a new volley rattled 
above my head among the trees, and the splinters 
from a shattered bough missed my face by inches 
and fell across the path. Knowing the ground so 
thoroughly I could take a great advantage of it, 
and sure every bit of it was needed, for the soldiers 
were desperately close. There was so thick a roof 


I CONTINUE MY NIGHT ADVENTURES. 105 

of branches to this wood that the moon could hardly 
penetrate, and not the snow at all. Thus the ques- 
tion of footprints had not to be encountered, and 
the deep gloom that slumbered everywhere also lent 
me aid. Once under the protection of the trees I 
checked my pace, for in this sanctuary it would be 
easy to dodge a whole battalion. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 

I HAD soon breasted through the trees to the 
side of a dark runnel that darted through the glade. 
Arrived there I . felt that my enemies were non- 
plussed, as I had come by a devious and mazy way 
of which they must certainly be ignorant. Surely 
I could breathe at last, and when I stopped be- 
side the stream to recover myself a little, my suc- 
cess seemed so complete, and I had played such 
a pretty trick upon my friend the Corporal withal, 
that I was quite complacent at the thought and 
felt a disposition to celebrate this triumph in a 
new sphere in a fashion that should startle ’em. 
Now it must have been the action of the freakish 
moon upon my giddy head or the magic of the 
woods, or a strain of wild music in the stream, for 
somehow as I stood there in that perishing cold 
night listening to the solemn river and my enemies 
calling through the stern stillness of the trees, all 
the wantonness of my spirit was let loose. The 
sharp frost made my blood thrill; my heart ex- 
panded to the pale loveliness of the sleeping earth. 
This was life. This was spacious air, and the pride 
io6 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 


107 


of freedom. In this oppressive eighteenth century 
of ours, with its slaveries of rank and fashion, one 
must go into a wood of moonlight in the middle 
of the night for one’s pulses to pipe to the natural 
joys of unrestraint. At least I thought so then, 
and in the exuberance of the moment I concocted 
a merry plot for the diversion of myself and the 
mystification of the Corporal and his men. Nor 
was it made of mischief merely, since it was to be 
ordered in such a cunning way that it should still 
further throw them off the rebel’s track, and con- 
firm their theory that they had already seen him 
in this wood. 

First I returned upon the road I had come by 
and spied out where they were. This was a matter 
of small difficulty, as their voices were plainly to 
be distinguished close at hand. 

Creeping through the thickets at the direction 
of their tones, I came at last to a place where a 
rift among the tree tops let the brightness in. It 
poured upon the Corporal and his men, assembled 
in still another consultation underneath a glorious 
silver-birch, arch and lissome as a maid, which rose 
above them with graces indescribable, and seemed 
from where I stood to fade into the sky. Clearly 
my pursuers were seriously at fault, and even du- 
bious of the road to take in this strange wilderness. 
’Twas in my mind to minister to this perplexity. 

Selecting a spot appropriate to the purpose, I 
cheerfully set about preparing them the surprise 
I had in store. I crushed my soft, three-cornered 
8 


io8 


LADY BARBARITY. 


hat into a pocket in my cloak, unbound my hair, 
and let its whole dark luxury shine with moonlight 
to my waist. This in itself I considered sufficient 
to destroy all resemblance between the figure I 
intended to present, and the fugitive they had so 
lately chased across the park, and as all of them 
must be extremely ill-acquainted with the features 
of my Lady Barbara, having only beheld them for 
an instant the previous night, ’twas not at all likely 
that they would be recognised just now. This done 
I crept some distance up the glade, and as I did so 
took occasion to recall the weirdest melody I knew, 
which partook of the nature of a chant, wedded 
the absurdest doggerel to it, though it must not be 
denied the merit of being a kind of interpretation 
of my abandoned fancy, and lifted my voice up loud 
and shrilly in a song. Having fallen after the first 
bar or two into a proper strain, I warmed to the 
wanton mirth of it and plunged my spirit com- 
pletely in its whim. 

I tripped from my concealment in the glade into 
an open avenue leading to a spot in which the sol- 
diers stood in council. Full before their astounded 
eyes, I came dancing down the moonlight singing: 

“ This world it is not weary, 

Though my life is very long ; 

For I’m the child of faery, 

And my heart it is a song. 

My house it is the starlight. 

My form is light as air. 

As out upon a bright night, 

I issue from my lair ; 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 


109 


And riding on a moonbeam, 

I come to realms of men ; 

Yet when I see the day gleam, 

I then go back again.” 

I never saw six grown men affected so pro- 
foundly. One broke into a howl, not unlike a dog’s 
when his tail hath been trod on suddenly, wheeled 
about and fled precipitately thence. Two others 
locked themselves in one another’s arms, and turned 
away their eyes in the anguish of their fright ; whilst 
the remainder seemed struck entirely stupid, fell 
back against the tree trunk, and, being unable to 
believe their eyes, opened their mouths as widely as 
their orbs, probably to lend some assistance to their 
vision. 

As for me, you may be sure I was delighted 
highly by this flattering reception. And I do 
not doubt that I made a most unearthly figure 
with masses of hair streaming wild on my shoul- 
ders, my eyes wild-staring, and my feet tripping 
a fantastic measure to the shrill chant issuing 
from my lips: 

“ I ever choose the woodland. 

For here the wild birds are. 

And I’m a sister to them. 

Though my home it is a star.” 

Thus I sang as I danced down the glade, waving 
my hands above my head in a kind of unholy glee 
at the weird music that I made. I halted opposite 
these tremblers, and set up a ridiculous scream of 


no 


LADY BARBARITY. 


mockery. Then I looked upon them with great 
eyes of wonder, and then again began to dance 
and sing: 

“A blackbird is my brother, 

I see him in that tree, 

A skylark is my lover. 

But I prefer a bee.” 

While I was in the middle of this arrant non- 
sense, my good friend Flickers, who was paler than 
a ghost, hung on to his pistol with tenacity, for that 
piece of iron held all the little courage that he had. 
I could see the perspiration shining on his face, 
as he muttered in a voice that trembled like the 
ague: 

“ What you are I don’t know. But if you’re 
woman or if you’re fiend, come a step nearer and 
I’ll— I’ll shoot you ! ” 

He pointed the pistol, but the muzzle tottered so 
that he could not have hit a tree. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” I laughed in my throat in a 
voice that was sepulchral, then danced before them 
once again and began to sing : 

“ Water cannot quench me. 

And fire cannot burn ; 

Pray, how will you slay me ? 

That have I yet to learn.” 

The effect of this was to cause the pistol to drop 
on to the grass from his nerveless hand. 

“ Go — go ’way ! ” he stuttered ; “ go ’way, you 
— you witch ! ” 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 


Ill 


Whereupon I broke out in reply : 

“ He says I am a night-witch, 

But this I do deny ; 

For I’m a child of faery, 

And my house it is the sky.” 

Mr. Flickers said no more. ’Twas not surpris- 
ing, either. I much question whether any human 
creature could have conversationally shone in that 
moonlit wood just then. Those simple soldiers, 
shown on a solemn background of gloom and 
mighty trees, were sufficient in that eerie light to 
shatter the nerves of a person of the strongest mind 
should he come upon them suddenly. What must 
I have been, then? And these victims being very 
little encumbered with their education had, there- 
fore, the less restriction imposed upon their igno- 
rant fancies. ’Twas quite certain that I was either a 
witch or a rather superior sort of devil, as, of course, 
the popular conception of fiends is not by any means 
so beautiful. 

I did not venture any nearer to them than I 
need, lest they should discover too many evidences 
in me of the very clay of which they were them- 
selves composed. 

“ Behold in me,” cried I, in prose, but with that 
impressive grandeur that belongs to the queens of 
tragedy, “ behold in me the Spirit of the Woods. 
And he who heeds me not shall be surely lost.” 

Prose even upon these primitive minds seemed 
to lack the natural magic that is in poetry. For 


LADY BARBARITY. 


1 12 

now ^twas that they began to recover somewhat of 
their courage. But by a master stroke I proved to 
them that I had a supernatural quality — that of 
divination, if you please. 

You seek a prisoner,'' says I, “ who escaped 
from a stable yesterday. His name is Dare, and he 
hath passed this way." 

Without a dpubt my prestige was increased by 
the singular knowledge here displayed. I could 
see their astounded faces asking of one another: 
How can this wild creature, this witch, this Spirit 
of the Woods, know all this unless she is even as 
she says, a supernatural? Let us heed her every 
word, for surely she can tell us much. 

Faith, it was much I told them ! I told them I 
would be their friend, and that if they would follow 
my directions they should learn the way the pris- 
oner went. 

You must understand that the voice I used was 
one that until that hour had never been heard on 
earth; that my long cloak and flowing hair held 
awful possibilities; that I stood where the moon 
was brightest ; that my eyes were very wild ; that 
my face was wondrous beautiful, but weird ; that I 
was possessed of the unnatural power of divination ; 
while my conduct and whole appearance were the 
most fantastic ever seen. Therefore when I pointed 
out to them the exact direction of the rebel's flight, 
which I had better state was precisely opposite to 
the one I proposed to embrace myself, they accepted 
it without a question and eagerly took this road, 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 


II3 

mighty glad, I think, to be relieved of my presence 
on such gentle terms. 

Watching them recede from sight, I then quick- 
ly knotted and tucked my hair up under my hat, and 
then set off for the house without once tarrying. 
I made a slight detour to the left to approach it 
from the further side, and so prevent the least risk 
of encountering my enemies on the journey. Speed 
was quite as imperative now as formerly, for the 
rebel should be awaiting me in the kitchen, and at 
the mercy of the first person of the household who 
might chance to see him there. Fortunately, the 
hour, as far as I could judge, was considerably 
short of five o’clock; and in the winter time the 
domestics were not abroad till six. Gliding through 
the trees and across the snowy grass, I was stand- 
ing at the kitchen door in less than half an hour. 
Entering with stealth, I had no sooner closed the 
door behind me than I was arrested by the light 
hand of the rebel on my sleeve. 

They are fooled, my lad,” says I, my triumph 
irrepressible, “ fooled as six men never were be- 
fore. And now, sir, I think that we shall save you.” 

Madam,” says he, with a boyish directness 
that seemed charming, “ oh, what a genius you 
have ! But I cannot thank you now, I am too dead 
weary. And where am I to hide ? ” 

“ If you will slip your shoes off and carry ’em 
in your hand,” says I, “ I will lead you to my 
chamber, and once there you shall sleep the clock 
round if you have the disposition.” 


LADY BARBARITY. 


1 14 

“ And you,” says he, “ are you not weary ? ” 

“ Not I,” I answered. “ I am never weary of 
adventures. Besides, I have much to do ere you 
can be snugly hid.” 

An instant later I had guided him through the 
darkness and the maze of passages in deep silence 
to my bedroom, this being the most secret chamber 
I could devise for his reception. Only Mrs. Polly 
Emblem was ever likely to intrude upon his privacy. 
Wherefore I led him there and permitted him to 
fling his worn-out frame upon my couch. 

Discarding the cloak and hat of his I wore, I 
wrapped a warm rug about him, gave him a cordial, 
and bade him get himself to sleep. Then I turned 
the key upon him and repaired to the chamber of 
my maid. 

I entered without disturbing her, for she always 
was a wonderful good sleeper at the hour she ought 
to be awake preparing a dish of chocolate for her 
mistress. I kindled her candle with the extreme of 
difficulty, for my hands were numbed so badly that 
for the present they had no virtue in them. Even 
the light did not arouse the comfortable Mrs. Polly, 
but when I laid my icy fingers on her warm cheek 
they worked on her like magic. She would have 
shrieked only I held my other hand across her 
mouth. 

“ Do you see the time ! ” says I ; “ three minutes 
after five. But hush ! not a word, my girl, as you 
love your life, for there’s a strange man got into 
the house.” 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 


II5 

The foolish creature shook with fright. 

He is in my chamber,” I added, with an air of 
tragedy. 

“ Oh, my lady ! ” says the maid. 

There was too little time to plague her, though, 
which was perhaps as well, for I was in a mood that 
might have caused her to take an early departure 
from her wits. Instead of that, however, I told 
the story of the night with all the detail that was 
necessary. When I had done, the silly but delight- 
ful thing looked at me in a kind of holy wonder. 

Oh, your la’ship ! ” says she, in tones of very 
tolerable ecstasy. “ What a heart you’ve got ! 
What an angel’s disposition ! ” 

No, my silly girl,” says I, though not dis- 
pleased to hear her say so. “ I happen to have 
neither. An infernal deal of naughtiness is all that 
my character contains. A stranger sleeping in my 
chamber! Besides, you know you flatter me. For 
if no man is a hero to his valet, how possibly can 
a woman be an angel to her maid ? ” 

To prove the soundness of this argument I 
grasped Mrs. Polly’s ear, pinched it pretty badly, 
and asked her what she thought of my divinity. 

She was soon into her clothes though, and had a 
fire lit; while I made haste to pull my shoes and 
stockings of¥, their condition was so horrid, and 
exchanged them for some dry ones, then set about 
warming my hands and toes, for they were causing 
me to grin with the fierce hot-ache that was in 
them. Having at last put my own person into a 


ii6 


LADY BARBARITY. 


more comfortable state, and that of the rebel into 
some security, I took counsel of Mrs. Polly on the 
problem of his ultimate escape. 

She was the only creature I could possibly con- 
fide in at this moment. And as she was the staunch- 
est, faithfullest of souls I had no hesitation. Pres- 
ently some of my clothes and toilet necessaries had 
to be procured. It was unfortunate that they were 
in my dressing-room, and that the only entrance 
to it was through my chamber. However, taking 
Emblem with me, I went to fetch them out. 

Unlocking the door with care, we entered softly, 
that we might not disturb the sleeper, for God 
knew how much there lay before him ! I had Em- 
blem pull the blinds up against the daylight, for 
should any person look upon my window from the 
lawn at noon ’twould astonish them to see it veiled. 
We soon took the requisite articles from the dress- 
ing-room, relocked the chamber door, and returned 
to whence we came. But ere this was done, I held 
the candle near the sleeper’s face. ’Twas to relieve 
the curiosity of Emblem, you understand ; she was 
pining to see what the fugitive’s countenance was 
like. 

He made the most sweetly piteous picture. He 
lay huddled among snow-white sheets of linen, and 
a counterpane of silk, in his tattered, muddy suit 
of coarse prunella, which left many soils upon its 
delicate surroundings. His cheek was pale and 
lean as death. Where the gyves had pinched his 
wrists they had left them raw; and I was startled 


THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS. 


II7 

at the thinness of his body, for it appeared to have 
no more flesh upon it than a rat. In sooth he 
looked the very poorest beggar that ever slept on 
straw, and no more in harmony with his present 
situation than was Mr. Christophero Sly in like cir- 
cumstances. Yet as I looked at him there seemed 
something so tender and so strong about his mea- 
greness that I pushed back the hair upon his fore- 
head with light fingers in an absent manner, and 
just as lightly and just as absently did touch it with 
my lips. No sooner had I done this than I drew 
them back, and turned my face abruptly round to 
Emblem as though it had been stung. I had for- 
gotten Emblem ! 

But I saw that the maid was blushing for me 
very deeply, though she strove with excellent inten- 
tion to look quite unconscious of my conduct. Yet 
I coldly stared her out of countenance. 

“ Girl,” says I, severely, “ the queen can do no 
wrong. She may box the ears of gartered dukes, 
or kiss the brows of sleeping bakers’ boys. But 
only the queen, you understand.” And I shot out 
such a look at her that she led the way to her 
chamber without a single word. 

I appeared at breakfast in high feather, but with 
rather more complexion than I usually wear so 
early in the day. But a woman cannot go prowling 
over fields of snow and moonlight at dreadful hours 
of morning without a tale being told. Cosmetics, 
though, have a genius for secrets. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


IN WHICH THE HERO IS FOUND TO BE A PERSON 

OF NO DESCENT WHATEVER. 

At ten o’clock the soldiers came and reported 
themselves to their commander. One of them, pre- 
sumably the officer in charge, was closeted with 
the Captain in the library for no less a time than 
an hour and a quarter. The others meantime put 
their jaded horses up, procured some food, and re- 
tired to rest themselves. At a few minutes to twelve 
o’clock, as the Mountain could not go to Mahomet, 
owing to some question of his knee, Mahomet went 
to the Mountain. At that hour a spy posted on 
the stairs informed me that my papa, the Earl, 
hopped — gout and all — to the Captain in the library. 
Meantime Emblem and myself were discussing the 
situation, behind locked doors, exhaustively, but 
with a deal of trepidation. She, it seemed, had 
just come into the possession of a piece of news of 
a very alarming kind. It was to the effect that 
the Captain, not wishing to disturb his knee, had 
passed the night in his chair in front of the library 
fire. And that apartment opened in the entrance 
hall, and was near the very flight of stairs up which 
the prisoner had passed. It was thus all too prob- 

ii8 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT, ijg 

able that he had heard incriminating noises towards 
the hour of four. 

“ Emblem/' says I, “ that man is the devil. At 
every turn he pops up to thwart us.” 

And before that day was out I was moved to 
speak of him in even stronger terms. At present, 
what to do with the prisoner was our chief concern. 
He must be smuggled away that night, if possible ; 
but the situation was desperately complex. First, 
he must be provided with a horse, and then with 
money, not to mention an open road, and a suit- 
able disguise. 'Twould be no kindness whatever — 
indeed, would merely be sending him to his doom — 
to despatch him a fugitive to the open moors again 
in the middle of the night unless he were provided 
with the amplest resources for escape. 

Yet, while I speculated on the pros and cons of 
his position, and the skilfullest means of aiding him, 
a thought that was never absent long caught me 
painfully in the breast. What of my papa, the 
Earl ? If the prisoner were not retaken in a week, 
that dear old gentleman would make acquaintance 
with the Tower. I was in a truly horrid case. The 
fugitive was in my hands; a word to his Majesty 
of the shattered knee, and the Earl, my papa, was 
safe. But having gone so far, how could I de- 
liver that child over to his enemies? His lean, 
white look had made too direct a claim upon my 
kindness. His youth, his sad condition, his misfor- 
tunes had made me very much his friend. Had he 
not confided to me the custody of his life? And 


120 


LADY BARBARITY. 


must I repay the trust reposed in me by betraying 
him to his foes? It appeared that my vaunted 
heartlessness had deserted me when needed most. 
I was involved in this hard problem, and casting 
contumely on Mrs. Polly because she could not 
suggest any kind of solution to it, when a knock 
upon the door disturbed our council. Emblem 
rose, unlocked the door, and admitted little Petti- 
grew, the page. He was the spy who had been 
posted on the stairs, also at the keyhole of the 
library door at favourable intervals. The in- 
formation that he brought completely terrified us 
both. 

I dismissed him as soon as it was given, for it 
was not wise that he should glean too much. 

“ Emblem,” says I, on Pettigrew’s departure, 
that settles it. That leaves absolutely nothing to 
be done. I wish that Captain was at the bottom of 
the sea! ” 

For the result of the interview between the Cap- 
tain and the Earl was this: the house was about to 
be searched from the bottom to the top, and every 
room and cupboard was to be overhauled, since 
the Captain, having taken the evidence of his men, 
and having heard strange sounds in the night him- 
self, had put two and two together and was now 
heavily suspecting me. My papa was not loth to 
do so either, and at the suggestion of the soldier, 
had issued strict instructions that no person under 
any pretext whatever was to leave the house until a 
thorough examination had been made. 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 121 

The prisoner was as good as lost. There was 
not a place anywhere in which a man could be con- 
cealed. Emblem proposed between a bed and mat- 
tress, but I scouted that as not sufficiently ingeni- 
ous. I suggested a clothes chest for a hiding-place, 
but Emblem was not slow to advance a similar ob- 
jection. 

“ Well,” says I, “ it is a matter for the lad him- 
self. We will bear this hard news to him and see 
what his own wits are worth.” 

Accordingly we repaired together to the cham- 
ber in which he was still asleep. There was yet 
an hour or two before us in which to act, as the sol- 
diers were at present indulging in their earned re- 
pose. A couple of shakes upon the shoulder and 
the rebel was rubbing his eyes and looking at us. 
By the utter bewilderment of his face he had evi- 
dently lost all cognisance of where he was, and I 
could not refrain from laughter as he gazed from 
me to Emblem, from Emblem to his luxurious 
couch, and then back again to me. 

“ Mr. Christophero Sly,” says I, “ how doth your 
lordship find yourself? ” 

“ Good Madam Wife,” says he, “ I find myself 
blithe as a pea, I thank you.” 

This reply was evidence of three things. First, 
that my voice had recalled him to his present state; 
second, that his deep sleep had restored him won- 
derfully; third, that he was no fool. The third was 
the most pleasing to me. He had now slipped from 
the bed, and was standing in his stocking feet be- 


122 


LADY BARBARITY. 


fore us with a degree of humility and pride that 
looked mightily becoming. 

“Madam,” he says, with a boy’s simplicity, 
which was a great contrast to what I had been used 
to, “ I shall not try to thank you, because I’m not 
good at words. But wait, madam, only wait, and 
you shall not lack for gratitude.” 

It was most amusing to witness this frail and 
tender lad go striding up and down the chamber, 
looking fierce as any giant-killer. The vanity of 
boys is a very fearful thing. 

“ I am afraid I shall, poor Master Jack,” says I 
next moment in a falling voice, “ for I am here to 
tell you that the soldiers are in this house; that as 
soon as they have taken a little rest they will search 
it from the bottom to the top, and leave not a stick 
unturned; and that as matters stand there is not a 
power on earth that now can save you.” 

He took this cruel news with both fortitude and 
courage. 

“ Well, then, madam,” says he, walking up and 
down the room again, but this time with his face 
unpleasant, “ if it is not to be that I shall give you 
gratitude, at least I think I can show you what a 
good death is. For at the worst it will be a better 
one than Tyburn Tree.” 

“ Then you are not afraid of death? ” I asked. 

I thought I saw his white face grow more pallid 
at the question, but his answer was: “ No, oh no! 
At least — do you suppose, madam, that I would tell 
you if I were? ” 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 123 

This was charming candour, and I laughed out- 
right at it, and said : 

“ I never saw the boy that was afraid of any- 
thing whatever.” 

“ I am not a boy,” he answered, proudly. 

, “ You have vanity enough for three, sir; but ere 

you perish, boy, there is one thing I must learn. 
Captain Grantley gives me to understand that you 
are the son of a baker. Is that so? For I think 
you are far too delightful to be anything so ple- 
beian.” 

“ Ah, no! ” he sighed, “ not even that. I never 
was the son of anybody.” 

“Dear me!” says I, “how singular! I must 
assume then that you came upon this earth like 
manna from the skies? ” 

“ When I was a fortnight old,” says he, “ I was 
left upon the doorstep of a priory. I have never 
seen my parents, and I do not even know their 
names.” 

“ But you are called Anthony Dare! ” says I. 

“ The fathers called me Anthony after their pa- 
tron saint; they called me Dare for daring to howl 
upon the doorstep of a priory.” 

“ They have given you the most appropriate 
name they could possibly have found,” says I, in 
admiration of his open, candid face and his coura- 
geous eyes, “ for if I read your countenance aright, 
my lad, you dare do anything whatever.” 

“ I think I might dare,” says he, and tightened 
his thin lips. 

9 


124 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Then if you think you dare, you had better kiss 
me,” says I, haughtily. 

TTwas the tone I had withered princes with. I 
drew up all my inches, and I am not a little woman ; 
I set back my head; I put a regal lift into my chin; 
I looked upon him from a snow-capped altitude; 
and again and again my eyes did strike him with 
disdain. I did not think the man was made who 
could have kissed me then. For ’twas not an in- 
vitation, you understand; it was a flat defiance. 

He sent a look at me, and then recoiled with 
something of a shiver. He sent another and fell 
into a kind of trembling, and I could see that fear of 
me was springing in his eyes. My will was matched 
against his own; and it was now a case of mastery. 
But ’twas his that did prevail. A third time he 
came with his fiery look; I quailed before it, and 
next instant his lips had known my cheek. 

“ My lad,” says I, and I was shaking like a leaf, 
“ I think you are formed for greatness. Do you 
know that there is not another man in England who 
could have dared that deed? ” 

“And strike me pale!” says he, “don’t ask 
me to dare it any more. I much prefer the whip- 
ping-post.” 

And whiter than before he sat upon the bed in 
a condition pretty much the equal of my own. 

“ What, you’ve known the whipping-post? ” I 
cried. “ What adventures you have had 1 And 
brought up in a priory. Now tell me all about ’em.” 

“ Three times to the whipping-post,” says he. 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 125 

“ twice to the pillory, twice to Edinburgh Tolbooth, 
and once a broken leg, and various embroilments, 
and strange accidents by sea and land.” 

“ Oh! my lad,” says I, “ if we had but time, what 
would I not give to hear your life recited? But the 
whipping-post? What’s it like? Do you know, 
I’ve been nearly tempted there myself, for it must 
be a very unique sensation.” 

“ It is something like kissing you, madam, only 
nothing like so painful.” 

This incorrigible rogue said this with the so- 
briety of a cardinal. 

“ And now,” says he, “ I won’t tell you one other 
solitary thing till you have appeased my hunger. I 
am famishing.” 

‘‘ What! ” says I, “ you who are to die in half an 
hour requiring a meal ! ” 

I was astonished that the imminence of death 
did not affect him. But then I had no need to be, 
for there was scarce a trait in his strange character 
they did not pass quite outside of my experience. 

“ Now tell me more about your life,” says I, 
“ you charming young adventurer.” 

His answer was a droll expression; and he 
shook his head and placed a finger on his lips to re- 
mind me of his vow of silence. And he would not 
speak another word of any kind until I had sent 
Emblem to smuggle up some food and to enquire 
whether the soldiers had yet begun their search. 

When she had gone, I said : “ Suppose, my lad, 
you proved, after all, to be a person of high con- 


126 


LADY BARBARITY. 


sideration, deserted by your parents for State rea- 
sons or matters of that sort. We read of such 
things in the story-books, you know.” 

“ Not I,” says he, with his delicious gravity. “ I 
know quite well I am not that. I am a person of 
low tastes.” 

Here he sighed. 

“ They might be the fruits of your education,” 
says I, tenaciously, for I love aught that seems at all 
romantic or mysterious. “ Let me hear them, sir, 
for I believe I am well fitted to pronounce a verdict 
thereupon.” 

“ For one thing,” says he, “ I am fond of cheese.” 

“ How barbarous ! ” says I. 

“ And I prefer to drink from pewter.” 

“ Tis a survival of the Vandal and the Goth,” 
says I. 

“ And velvet frets me. I cannot bow; I cannot 
pirouette; I cannot make a leg; and I have no gift 
of compliment.” 

“ Mr. Dare,” says I, “ you are indeed a waif, and 
not a high-born gentleman. Mr. Dare, your case 
is hopeless.” 

But so heavy a decision sat upon him in the 
lightest manner, for he heard the feet of the ap- 
proaching Emblem and the rattle of dishes on a 
tray. She, too, had evidently formed a low opinion 
of his tastes, for she had brought him the rudest 
pigeon pie and the vulgarest pot of ale you ever 
saw. 

“ I hope, my wench,” says I, sharply, “ you let no 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 127 

one in the kitchen see you procure these things. 
They will say I have a diabetes else.” 

“ 'Deed, no, my lady,” she replied ; and then in 
a confidential whisper, “ the soldiers are not yet 
begun their search. I have had a word with Corpo- 
ral Flickers, who is on duty. He hath told me 
privily that by the Captain’s orders their investiga- 
tion is to be postponed till four o’clock, as they are 
in such urgent need of food and sleep.” 

“ And what gave you Corporal Flickers for this 
news?” says I, frowning at her. 

Emblem puckered up her lips and looked puri- 
tanically prim. 

“ Only a look,” says she demurely, “ and a very 
indifferent imitation of one of your own, ma’am.” 

Meantime the condemned rebel had swallowed 
half the pigeon-pie and drunk a pint of ale. I 
watched him in polite surprise, and the thought 
came to me that if his fighting was as fierce as was 
his appetite, six men would be none too many to 
retake him. Having at last dispatched his meal, he 
said: 

Madam, do you know that I feel quite won- 
derfully better? Fit for stratagems and devilry, in 
fact. And, lord knows, they’ll be required.” 

“ They will, indeed,” says I. “ But stratagems 
— you talk of stratagems, now let me think of ’em.” 

I seldom lacked for a certain fertility in inven- 
tions. I began to put it to the test. To sit tamely 
down and watch this fine lad perish was by no means 
what I was prepared to do. Having pledged myself 


128 


LADY BARBARITY. 


SO deeply to his affair, I would see him through 
with it. 

“ Madam,” he broke in on my thoughts, “ two 
feet of straight and honest steel is worth a mile of 
strategy. Give me a sword, and bother your head 
no more about me.” 

“Tis bloody mindedness,” says I ; “ and you 
such a tender, handsome boy! ” 

“I am not tender; I am not handsome; I am 
not a boy,” says he. 

“ You are the very handsomest lad I ever saw,” 
says I, mischievously, “ and Mrs. Polly Emblem 
knows it also. She looks on you as sweetly as 
though you were a corporal.” 

“Bah!” he cries, “do you suppose, madam, 
that I will let a parcel of women pet me like 
a terrier pup. I was born for better things, I 
hope.” 

“ For the whipping-post, the pillory, the Tol- 
booth, you saucy rogue,” says I, laughing at his 
anger, and the way he treated one of the foremost 
ladies in the State. “ But you know you are very 
handsome, now,” says I, in a very coaxing 
manner. 

“ To be handsome,” he replied, “ a man must 
be six feet high; splendid wide shoulders; slender 
hips, and muscles made of steel. No, I am not 
handsome. I am only a little fellow; five feet five 
inches is my height; my frame hath no more con- 
sistency than your own. See how my shoulders 
slope, and my very voice is thin and feminine.” 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 129 

“ Why, certainly it is,” says I, “ but still you are 
very handsome.” 

“ Tis untrue,” says he, determined to prevail and 
doing so, for he was of that disposition that what- 
ever he wished he obtained, and whatever he under- 
took he performed; “ but, madam, if it will be a sat- 
isfaction to you, I may say, that for my size I pos- 
sess an arm that merits your attention. Observe 
these muscles, madam. They are flexible.” 

And I laughed aloud, when he pushed his 
sleeve up suddenly and laid his forearm bare. He 
bent it and made its fibres rise, and before he would 
be content I had to grip it with an appearance of 
great interest. 

But the catalogue of his dimensions and his 
feminine resemblance was to put me in possession 
of one of the bravest stratagems that ever was con- 
ceived. 

“ I have it! ” I exclaimed, in a tone of victory. 
‘‘ I have it! I have discovered a device that shall 
fit you like a glove.” 

“ I do not want a device,” says he; give me an 
honest sword, and a sturdy courage. They are 
worth all your pussy-cat tricks.” 

You have a feminine exterior,” says I, “ and I 
possess the clothes and the arts that can adorn it. 
In half an hour you shall become a most ravishing 
girl.” 

“ I will not, by thunder! ” he exclaimed, with 
gleams of purple in his face. “ I will go to Tyburn 
rather.” 


LADY BARBARITY. 


130 

“ Well, think about it,” says I, coaxingly, “ and 
remember this is your only chance of life. I do be- 
lieve that I may save you thus. Besides, a boy of 
your height will make a very fine, tall woman.” 

This it was that moved him to the scheme. In 
a moment was he reconciled. 

“ Tall! ” cries he. “ Well, it’s worth trying any- 
how. And at least there’s room in a woman’s what- 
do-you-call-’ems to stow a pistol and a bit of am- 
munition? ” 

I assured him that there was. 

Thereupon Emblem and I set about at once to 
prepare him for this disguise. The more I consid- 
ered it, the more positive did I grow of its success. 
Our present mode seemed to have been invented to 
assist our audacious plan. Every lady of preten- 
sion must have her powder, her patch, and her great 
head-dress. The hooped skirt was then the fash- 
ion too. I placed the most elegant one I had at his 
disposal. That is to say, the biggest, for the larger 
they were the more “tonnish” they were considered. 
Indeed, the petticoat I procured him was of such 
capacity that it fitted over his masculine clothes 
with ease, and abolished the necessity for under- 
linen, as his shirt and breeches fulfilled its duties ad- 
mirably. We got him into this rich silk dress, with 
convolvulvi and mignonette brocaded on it, in the 
shortest space of time. The bodice, though, was a 
different affair. He had to remove his coat and 
vest ere we might venture to put it on at all. Then 
he had to be dragged into it by main force, till it 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 131 

seemed that a miracle alone had saved the seams 
from bursting. 

Huh! ” he sighed, “ I cannot breathe. This is 
less humane than hanging.” 

“ But not so ignominious,” says I. 

“ Well, I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” says he. 
‘‘ For surely ’tis of the very depth of degradation for 
a lusty man like me to be put in petticoats, and 
made a woman of.” 

“Wretch!” says I. Mrs. Polly Emblem, be- 
ing employed at that moment in pinning a gold 
brooch into the collar of his bodice, by misadven- 
ture stuck it cleverly in his throat. 

We made him a bust with a pad of wool. His 
hair was a matter for nice consideration. He wore 
it long, and of a yellow colour; and, although of a 
coarse male quality, it was profuse enough to oc- 
cupy his shoulders. Emblem, however, was a past 
mistress in the manipulation of a head-dress. It 
shook me with laughter, yet thrilled me with pleas- 
ure too, to witness the degree of mastery with which 
she seized that ungovernable mane, that was no 
more curly than is a grey rat’s tail, and twisted it 
to her own devices. She packed it up with pins 
and divers arts known only to the coiffeuse, en- 
closed it in one of my commodes, and made the 
whole of such a height and imperial proportion that 
even I would not have disdained to wear it pub- 
licly. 

There now remained the question of his tell-tale 
hands and feet. But the difficulties they presented 


132 


LADY BARBARITY. 


were very well got over. His form being cast in 
so slight a mould, it was not strange that they were 
of quite a delicate character; and when a pair of 
long mittens had been stretched across his hands to 
hide their natural roughness, there remained small 
chance of detection on their account. 

But his feet were a somewhat more serious affair. 
My own shoes were outside the question utterly. 
When Emblem mischievously produced a pair, and 
suggested that he should try them on, his face was 
worthy of remark. 

“What, those!” says he. “I might have 
tugged ’em on when I was four weeks old, but I’ll 
swear at no time thereafter.” 

Emblem then produced a pair of hers. They 
fared but slightly better, she being a very dainty 
creature, a fact of which she was very well aware. 
Thereupon she repaired below-stairs to discover if 
any of the maids could lend assistance. In the end 
she returned in triumph with a not inelegant pair 
the cook went to church on Sundays in. She be- 
ing one of the most buxom members of her tribe, 
they promised well. 

It was a squeeze, but the lad found a way in- 
side them, and walked presently across the room to 
allow us to judge of the general effect. 

“ A little more rose-pink upon his cheeks,” says 
I, “ a rather darker eyebrow, a higher frill about his 
throat, a deeper shade of vermilion on his lips, two 
inches more ascension in his bust, and we shall have 
the rogue a rival to myself.” 


THE HERO IS A PERSON OF NO DESCENT. 133 

Emblem, most enthusiastic in the cause, brim- 
ful of mirth, and with a pardonable vanity in her 
own accomplished hand, worked out these details 
to a miracle. A touch or two and Venus was super- 
seded. 

He looked into the mirror, and saw his image 
there, and kissed the glass to show how deeply the 
picture there presented had wrought upon his sus- 
ceptibilities. 

"‘A deuced fine girl!” says he. “Faith! I 
think I’ll marry her! ” 

“ You are wedded to her for a day or two, at 
least,” says I. 

The lad made the most charming picture. 
Those rare eyes of his were roving in a very saucy 
way ; his features were alert and delicate, yet strong, 
and emphasized in delightful fashion by Mrs. Polly 
Emblem’s inimitable art. His clothes were very 
cunningly contrived, and he had a graceful ease of 
person that in a measure disguised the absence of 
soft curves. Besides, that enormous hoop petticoat 
was very much his friend, as it stood so far off from 
his natural figure that it created a shape of its own 
accord. 

“ My dearest Prue, how are you?” cries I with 
warmth, and pretending to embrace him. 

“So my name is Prue?” says he, “a proper 
name, I vow.” 

“ Then ’ware lest you soil it with an impro- 
priety,” says I, disapproving highly of the way in 
which he walked. “ You are to impersonate my 


134 


LADY BARBARITY. 


friend the Honourable Prudence Canticle. She is 
very fond of hymns. She thinks a lot about her 
soul, and is a wonderfully good young creature. 
But my dearest Prue, is that how Pilgrim walked 
upon his progress? Pray correct it, for it is indeed 
most immodest and unwomanlike. In four strides 
you have swaggered across the room.” 

“All right, dear Bab,” says he, with an impu- 
dence that I itched to box his ears for. “ But I so 
detest you niminy piminy fine ladies, with your af- 
fectations and your foibles. Therefore, I remove 
my manners from you as far as possible. I spurn 
your mincing footsteps, dear. Besides, I am on 
the narrow and the thorny track, and the bigger 
strides I take the sooner I shall have walked 
across it.” 

“ You must contrive to modulate your voice in a 
different key to that,” says I, his mentor. “ You 
must become far less roguish and impertinent; you 
must manipulate your skirts with a deal more of 
dexterity; and, above all, I would have you imitate 
my tone. The one you are using now is bourgeois, 
provincial, a very barbarism, and an insult to ears 
accustomed to refinement.” 

“ Lard, Bab,” says the wicked dog, “ give me a 
chaney arange, or a dish of tay, for Pm martal 
tharsty.” 

“ Prue,” says I, “ let me proceed to read you 
the first lesson.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


OF THE MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 

To begin with, I instructed him in deportment. 
I put him through his paces with the exactitude of 
a dancing-master. 

“ Tread upon your toes, sir,” lifting up my skirts 
a little to show him how ; “ neater and lighter, my 
lad. Do not put your foot upon the carpet like a 
hundred weight of coals. Tip your chin a shade 
more upward; set your head a little backward; 
shorter strides and one shoe behind the other — 
so!” 

As a pupil he proved extremely apt, and in a 
few minutes he was giving quite a tolerable imita- 
tion of the motions of a woman of quality. His 
petticoat bothered him exceedingly, but in a little 
time even these troubles he overcame. Once he 
tried a simper, and did it prettily. Then in a highly 
successful way he played his shoulders like an arch 
and laughing miss. His next attempt was at a 
curtsey, but here misfortune came, as his heel 
caught in his skirt and he fell flat upon his back. 

“ The penalty of impertinence,” said I. “ As 

135 


LADY BARBARITY. 


136 

though every delicate accomplishment of Venus is 
to be obtained in half an hour! ” 

He rose, however, with fine gravity, and asked 
me how it should be done. It was a part of his 
character to let nothing beat him, and in this in- 
stance he tried a full twenty times rather than a 
curtsey should become his master. 

There was one subject in which we were much 
exercised. How were his coat and vest to be dis- 
posed of? The search was to be of the strictest 
kind, therefore no risks must be run. It was Em- 
blem who grappled with the difficulty. Stealing to 
his lordship’s dressing-room she mingled them tem- 
porarily with his clothing, as masculine attire in 
that place was not likely to excite remark. 

This had just been done, I was still in the 
middle of my tutelage, and making Miss Prudence 
imitate the cadence of my voice in high falsetto, 
when a knock upon the door startled us extremely. 
Emblem turned white as any pillow-slip; I began 
to tremble and could not have spoke a word that 
minute for my life; but the disguised fugitive looked 
at me, and looked at Emblem, smiled a little, and 
calmly said “Come in!” in the identical tone he 
had been practising. 

A terrible being sailed into the room; no less a 
person than my Aunt. She paused upon the thresh- 
hold to gaze at the fair stranger in both dignity 
and doubt. Unable to recall the face she screwed her 
gold-rimmed glasses on her nose and stared stead- 
ily down upon Miss Prue with that polite imperti- 


[ MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 137 

nence that flourishes most in dowagers. The time 
this manoeuvre took gave me the necessary mo- 
ment to recover myself. I seized it, smiled on my 
aunt’s bland insolence and said: 

“ My dear aunt, permit me to present to you 
Miss Prudence Canticle, that very familiar and dear 
friend of mine of whom you have heard me so often 
speak. She shares all the secrets of my bosom, and 
I therefore, my dear aunt, commend her with the 
more confidence to yours.” 

“ I am charmed, I am delighted, I am sure,” 
says the dowager, sweeping a stately bow upon the 
phrase with great majesty. 

“ Madam,” says the lad, “ I am infarnally glad of 
your acquaintancy.” 

My aunt, the dowager, was a person of too 
much breeding to express or to otherwise betray 
any astonishment at this; but I am sure she felt it, 
for though she had never seen Prue, my pious friend 
in propria persona, she had seen her letters, and on 
the strength of those epistles had held her image 
up before me as a paragon of gentlewomen and 
a mirror of the Christian virtues. I dare not look 
at my aunt’s stern mien lest I broke out in a peal of 
laughter; but the lad, with a slight curl at his lips, 
and a saucy gleam within his eye, met full the shock 
of it, and quailed not. 

“ ’Tis strange, my dear Miss Canticle,” says my 
aunt with that sugared fluency in which she 
wrapped her sourest moods, ‘‘that I had no pre- 
monition of your coming. Barbara gives me not a 


138 


LADY BARBARITY. 


word of it; I have even no hint of your arrival; 
and so, my dear Miss Canticle, I must beseech you 
to take things at Cleeby very much as you may 
find them, and accept this for their apology. Let 
me repeat, my dear Miss Canticle, that I had not the 
ghost of an idea that we were about to be so greatly 
honoured.” 

Now I was in a fever of anxiety and fear, and 
the face of Emblem announced similar emotions. 
We were at such a disadvantage that to prompt 
Miss Prudence in the ordering of her speech and 
conduct was outside the question utterly. But ’twas 
little she needed prompting. For she seemed su- 
perbly at her ease, fell into fiction of the cheerfullest 
and most high-coloured sort, without one “ ahem! ” 
of hesitation; and contrived from the beginning to 
treat her majesty, my aunt, with the most easy fa- 
miliarity she could possibly employ. 

“ I am sure the apology should be supplied by 
me,” Miss Prudence says. “ I never writ Bab a 
word about it, did* I, darling? But t’other morn- 
ing my papa orders the chaise for town. I asked 
him would he pass near Cleeby on the way? That 
he would, says he. Then, says I, you shall drop 
me down there, and, faith! Pll spend a week with 
my ownest Bab. All this age I have not seen her.” 

And I believe the incredible rogue would have 
kissed me on the spot, as I could not possibly have 
said him nay, had I not drawn my face from the 
threatening proximity of his mouth. 

“ Your papa. Miss Prudence?” my aunt echoed 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 139 

in surprise. “ I was informed that he died five years 
ago at Paris.” 

I was horrified at the magnitude of this error he 
had made, for my aunt spoke, alas! too truly. I 
might have been spared my agitation, though. 

“Oh!” Miss Prudence laughed, “my dear 
mamma hath taken another piece of household fur- 
niture unto herself since then.” 

“ A what? ” cries my aunt, fixing her glasses on 
again to cover her distress. 

You will understand that the dowager — dear 
lady! — being the product of an earlier generation, 
construed this flippant mention of so ornamental an 
article as a papa as gross irreverence. Yet I 
breathed again at the lad’s ingenuity. However, 
he had gone astray on another point, and my aunt 
was not the one to pass it by. 

“ But what are you doing in the north, my dear 
Miss Canticle, if I may make so bold as to in- 
quire?” says she; “for I have always been told 
that your residences were Tunbridge Wells and 
Mitcham Green.” 

“ You are not aware then, madam,” replied Miss 
Prue, “ that we bought quite recently a little place in 
Fifeshire?” 

“ Indeed ! ” says my aunt, with interest, “ and a 
very charming country to be sure.” Then she 
turned to me and said : “ Barbara, I am come to 
speak to you of a particular affair. Captain Grant- 
ley has just had the goodness to inform me that he 
proposes shortly to have this house searched from 
10 


140 


LADY BARBARITY. 


cellar to attic, to discover if that prisoner is hid any- 
where within it. I told him that it was a most 
monstrous project, and one more monstrous still 
to undertake, as by that means our house and all its 
contents would be quite exposed to the mercy of 
his men, who being of the very scum can no more 
be trusted with good furniture than can a cat with 
a jug of cream.” 

“ Very true, dear aunt,” says I, “ and I trust you 
will oppose it.” 

“ I have opposed it,” says my aunt, grimly; “ but 
the Earl, your papa, and this Captain man are really 
most unreasonable men.” 

“Prisoner!” cried Miss Prue. “Search the 
house! La! we shall have some fun. Pm certain.” 

“We shall, indeed!” says I, even more grimly 
than my aunt. 

Here it was that the dowager, to my infinite re- 
lief, bowed stiffly to Miss Prudence, and renounced 
the room in a distinctly disdainful manner. 

“ Bab,” says the prisoner so soon as she was 
gone, “ I consider that I have carried this off gal- 
lantly. But I fear, dear Bab, that if I stay here any 
longer than a day I shall prove a thorn in the flesh 
of that old lady. Her icy mien provokes me.” 

“ Prue,” says I, unable to repress the admiration 
that I felt for the agile fashion in which he had crept 
out of a corner uncomfortably tight, “ you will 
either attain to the post of Prime Minister of Eng- 
land or a public death by hanging There will be 
no half course in your career. Pm certain. For your 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 141 

wickedness is as great as is your wit. But you really 
must think a trifle more about your pious charac- 
ter, my dear Miss Canticle.” 

Now that my aunt was apprised of Miss Prue’s 
presence in the house, it behoved us to wear bold 
faces and put our trust in impudence and the good 
luck that usually attends it. She must be presented 
to the Earl, and share our daily life entirely. She 
must be treated as an equal, and carry herself with 
sustained dignity and ease; she must be nothing 
less than perfect in the playing of her part, else 
questions would be provoked, any one of which 
might prove fatal to our scheme. Therefore, I oc- 
cupied the interval between this and a quarter after 
four, at which hour I was due at the tea-table in the 
dowager’s drawing-room, in schooling Prue in car- 
riage, etiquette, and family affairs. And I cannot 
repeat too often that if this lad was not by birth 
and training a person of the mode, his natural in- 
stinct for mummery was in itself so admirably fine 
that had he been asked to don the royal purple of 
a potentate, he would have filled the throne at a 
moment’s notice and have looked a king and acted 
like one. Besides, he had this very great advantage 
— he had been bred to no sphere in particular, and 
there seemed such a native richness in his character 
as made him ripe for any. The keenest observation 
of man and nature supplied in him a course of educa- 
tion in the schools. Therefore his mind had no 
predisposition towards any avocation. He was 
neither a physician nor a priest, a fop nor a vender 


142 


LADY BARBARITY. 


of penny ballads. He was just (in my idea) an in- 
trepid young adventurer, a charming vagabond, 
with enough of sense and courage in him to become 
anything he chose. 

For the nonce he chose to be a woman of quality. 
Therefore he was that woman, plus a dash of na- 
tive devilry that she was born without. The way he 
played his eyes, the archness of his simpering, his 
ringing laugh, the sauciness that salted all he said, 
his smiling rogueries, his dimpled impudence, his 
downright, damnable adorableness, he appeared to 
put on with his dress, and wore with the elegant 
propriety of one who had dwelt in Spring Gardens 
all her days. 

“ My lad,” says I, “ you step a point beyond me 
quite. Here have you picked up Saccharissa’s 
every trick in twenty minutes. Tis a miracle, Fll 
swear.” 

“ Fudge,” says he, “ ’tis no miracle. The living 
model is before me, and the rest is no more than a 
painter does when he transfers that model to a can- 
vas. You twist your lips into a smile, and see — I 
ape ’em with my own.” And the very trick I had 
of sardonically smiling from the corners of my 
mouth he immediately copied with marvellous 
fidelity. 

“ My Lady Barbara,” says he, “ you once dis- 
dained me with a glance. Here is the one you did 
it with.” 

Straight he gathered all his inches up and gazed 
down upon Emblem and myself with a severity aw- 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 143 

ful to observe. As for his voice, it was thin and 
somewhat treble in its quality. But it was an instru- 
ment that had a singular variety of tone. Its natu- 
ral note was boyish, fresh, and piercing; yet that 
did not prevent it from one moment scorning like 
an actress, nor the next from being missish, petu- 
lant, and shrill. 

Pretty soon the ears of us conspirators were 
assailed with strange and reiterated sounds. The 
soldiers had begun their search. The three of us 
looked at one another, and debated what to do. 
The Honourable Prudence Canticle turned to me, 
and said : 

“ Where’s that pistol, Bab? There might be an 
accident, you know, and if there is — well! ” 

So much was implied by that doleful mono^ 
syllable that I handed the weapon to him without 
demur. He desired to keep it in the pocket of his 
breeches, but it called for a deal of judicious aid on 
the part of Emblem and myself ere his enormous 
hooped petticoat could be supported while he intro- 
duced it. Then a nice point had to be considered. 
Should we stay where we were and await the enemy, 
or repair to the drawing-room and meet it under 
the protection of the presence of the formidable 
Lady Caroline? 

Miss Prue languidly professed that she was quite 
indifferent, being perfectly easy in her mind that 
her skirts, her powder, and her head-dress would 
be more than a match for a corporal and five foolish 
troopers. 


144 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ So long as that Captain remains strapped to 
his board in the library,” she assured us, “ I snap 
my fingers at ’em.” 

“ Then you will confess,” says I, “ that Captain 
Grantley has the power to disconcert you? ” 

“ Well — yes,” says she reluctantly, “ because — 
well Captain Grantley is the devil.” 

“ He is the devil,” says I, triumphantly, “ never a 
doubt about it. ’Tis the only phrase that fits him, 
and I’ve employed it several times myself. Prue, 
do you know that I hate — I detest — that man, and 
yet, and yet ” 

“ And yet,” says Prue, breathing hard, and her 
vermilion lips studded with two white teeth, Bab, 
I quite agree with you that there is always a big 
‘ and yet ’ sticking out of the Captain’s character.” 

Further discourse was cut off by the uncere- 
monious entry of two soldiers. The first was Cor- 
poral Flickers. His eye fell on three flaunting pet- 
ticoats, and three faces of bold brilliancy surmount- 
ing them. Nothing to denote the thin and haggard 
fugitive in these. It would be uncharitable to blame 
the man for permitting himself to be so beauti- 
fully fooled, for the serene interest of Miss Prue and 
her innocent wonderment at the Corporal’s appear- 
ance would have defied the majority of his intel- 
lectual betters to unmask her. And Miss Prue was 
so radiantly calm in the presence of the Corporal 
that I am sure the pungent jest delighted her in- 
deed. 

Now I hope you will remember that this Mr. 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 145 

Flickers was that very red-haired wretch who had 
declaimed so powerfully against my Lady Barbara 
Gossiter and all her works, beneath the window of 
her ladyship at three o’clock that morning. A dead- 
ly feud was thus between us. At the same time, 
however, there was a sort of fascination about a man 
who was so terrible in opinion. There was defiance 
of all the things that were, crapulously shining in his 
beery orbs. In his nose, short and thick, and mag- 
nificently drunken, was writ the pugilist, and worse, 
alas! the pummeller of the classes. A mighty 
hatred of the aristocracy was indicated on his honest 
brow. His mien was so determinedly aggressive, 
and so purple in its tint, that it might have been 
washed in the bluest blood of dukes and earls. 
Thus at sight of him, I could scarce refrain from 
shivering, as we are said to do when someone walks 
across our graves. 

To him the searching of my chamber was a 
pleasing duty. It involved iconoclasm and a tear- 
ing down of gilded luxury. And there was a suffi- 
cient unction in the rude methods he employed. He 
half tore the window curtain from the pole in shak- 
ing out its folds; he committed dreadful carnage with 
the bed, tearing sheets, and flinging counterpane 
and bolster to the ground. He wrenched one of 
the doors off my wardrobe, such was the vigour 
with which he opened it, and so ruthlessly mis- 
handled one of my costliest robes that it was dam- 
aged beyond amendment. He was able to knock 
a china model of Apollo off the mantelpiece and 


146 


LADY BARBARITY. 


shatter it into a hundred pieces on the hearth. He 
cracked one of my finest Knellers when he tapped 
upon the wall to assure himself it was not hollow. 
He contrived to tread upon my poodle and render it 
permanently lame as he examined the floor and 
wainscot. He cut the Turkey carpet in a dozen 
places by the way he used his heels; and when he 
paused to take a little breath, he calculated things 
so excellently well that by suddenly dropping four- 
teen stones of beer and democratic blackguardism 
on a frail settee, he smashed it in the middle, and in 
the fall he had in consequence had the good luck to 
put his elbow through the glass door of a cabineti 
And he did all this with such a pleasant air that I 
almost wept for rage. 

“ Mr. Flickers,” says I, mildly, “ my compli- 
ments to you. In five minutes you have managed 
to smash such an astonishing quantity of furniture 
that in future, with your kind permission, I shall 
amend the adage, and instead of speaking of a bull 
in a china-shop, shall phrase it a Corporal in a 
lady’s chamber.” 

“ Booty, my lady,” says the Corporal, simply, 
but trying to crush a mirror into fragments by jam- 
ming his back against it, “ dooty don’t wait fer 
duchesses. Booty must be done.” 

To show how completely he was the slave of it, 
he resumed his happy occupation at the word: 
stepped lightly to my clothes closet, and wreaked 
such a horrid havoc on my dresses that the tears 
appeared in poor Mrs. Polly Emblem’s eyes. 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 147 

But this catastrophe had another side. And to 
my mind it was not unpleasant. It was supplied by 
the behaviour of Miss Prue. When the cheerful 
Corporal was in the midst of his depredations in 
the closet, that young lady grew a lively red with 
rage, and doubled up her not unsubstantial but mit- 
tened fists, and shook them in the Corporal’s direc- 
tion. 

“ Gad ! ” she whispered, whilst Emblem and my- 
self had to put forth desperate efforts to restrain her, 
“ I would give a golden guinea to be Anthony Dare 
for just two minutes. I’d smash as many bones in 
his drunken carcase as he hath smashed these bits 
of furniture.” 

Captain Grantley’s threat was executed to the 
letter. They sought the prisoner or evidence of 
him in every nook and cranny from the cellar to the 
skylight, but became none the wiser for their pains. 
Ruefully they told this to their commander, fuming 
in his fetters. I also went and told the Captain 
this. 

Conducting my friend Miss Prue to the tea-table 
of my aunt, I was charmed more than I can express 
to notice how immediately this young lady ordered 
her bearing and her conversation to a harmony that 
accorded with the dowager’s personality and her 
own. Launching these ladies properly on a topic 
on which they were both well qualified to speak, to 
wit, the relations then existing between the Church 
of England and the Church of Rome, I tripped forth 
to the library to carry my compliments to its oc- 


148 


LADY BARBARITY. 


cupant. He was still in the exact posture in which 
I had previously seen him. But he was not writing- 
now. Instead, his fingers were tapping the table in 
their impotence, and his eyes were red and fierce. 
He looked the picture of the tiger caged, and fret- 
ting away his heart in his captivity. His cheeks 
were wan and fiollow, for the whole affair was a bit- 
ter load upon his mind. Indeed, he made a quite 
pathetic figure, chafing in a strict confinement at a 
time when it was desperately necessary that he 
should be abroad. 

“Captain, how’s the knee?” I began, with 
sweetness. 

“ It gives me no trouble I assure you, my dear 
lady,” he answered, smoothly, “ but it is really very 
good of you to ask.” He gently smiled, for he was 
well aware that I positively knew that it troubled 
him exceedingly, and that my inquiry did not spring 
from any kindly impulse. 

“ I am here to tell you, sir,” says I, and ob- 
served the poor wretch keenly to catch him wincing, 
“ that those fine troopers of yours have failed com- 
pletely in their expedition. Completely failed, sir! 
And as you have had the goodness to confer igno- 
miny on this household and myself by insinuating 
that we are harbouring a rebel, I am here to thank 
you for it.” 

“ Yes,” he sighed, “ I know they’ve failed.” He 
looked at his knee reproachfully. 

“ Captain,” says I, in a voice that was angelical; 
“ how unfortunate it is that you yourself could not 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS TRUE. 149 

have led this man-hunt. I’ll warrant that you 
would have run this fugitive to earth.” 

’Twas more than the fellow could endure. 

Curse this knee! ” says he, and again, “ curse 
this knee! ” 

The baited wretch looked so dolefully on the 
board and the bonds that detained his damaged 
limb, that I fell forthwith into laughing at him. 

“ Pray do not spare your curses. Captain,” I en- 
couraged him, “tear your hair; conjure all the 
devils. Call a murrain in blue blazes down upon 
your evil state. Prithee, damn your scurvy leg, fair 
sir! But, dear Captain, there you are. You can- 
not move an inch, my friend. And reflect that 
your six zanies are as likely to catch this rebel as 
they are to catch a bird by putting salt upon its tail. 
Consider all this, dear Captain, and tell me what 
round sum sterling you would pay to be in a like 
hale condition to myself.” 

To show him what that hale condition was, and 
to aggravate his woes, I prettily gathered up my 
gown and danced him a few corranto steps daintily 
and lightly. 

Poor fellow! These taunts of mine went right 
home into his soul. In spite of himself, he had to 
writhe; and I, finding him so helpless, did but prick 
and gall him more. I do not pride myself on this, 
for it was a piece of wanton cruelty, and perhaps a 
piece of cowardice. But I will be as honest as I 
can, and confess that I had an instinct that this was 
not the highest style of woman; but then, you see, 


LADY BARBARITY. 


150 

I never did set up for a saint. Here was my enemy 
prostrate, and how could one resist the joys of 
trampling on him! Ascribe this an it please you 
to a full-blooded female nature! 

The Captain bore my exultation for a time with 
fortitude, but then said, with a bluntness that I 
thought refreshing: 

“ Let us understand one another in this matter, 
my Lady Barbara. You play a winning game at 
present. You have the prisoner successfully con- 
cealed, and up to now the honours are entirely 
yours. It is the simplest thing in the world to 
hoodwink six clumsy fellows, but do not think, dear 
madam, that you hoodwink their unlucky officer. 
He may now be taken in the leg and tied up to 
a board, but sooner or later he will have his liberty, 
and then, believe me, my dearest madam, that some 
persons I might name may perhaps be dancing on 
another string.” 

The Captain’s words were to be respected, for he 
was indeed a dangerous foe. None the less I 
scorned them, and replied, in high derision: 

“ Perhaps, dear Captain, you will take my arm 
and make a tour of the house yourself? You seem 
to repose very little confidence in your followers.” 

“ No, Lady Barbara,” says he, “ I will not do 
that, much as I would like. But I would fain re- 
mind you that since our last interview a day hath 
fled. Therefore, six days only now remain ere this 
is despatched to London. That is unless the rebel 
happens to be retaken in the meantime.” 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 15 1 

This was his chance to repay my insolence. 
You may be sure he took it, and also that my heart 
quailed when he held that sinister blue paper up, 
and asked me whether I did not think it elegant. 

“ And again would I venture to suggest, my 
Lady Barbara,” says he, “ that though the first fall 
may rest with you, the game is not quite over yet.” 
The man smiled with such a malicious affability that 
I dropped him a curtsey and swept out in a huff. 

That blue paper was my nightmare, It must 
not go to London, yet how could I give the prisoner 
up? I desired to eat my cake and yet to keep it, 
and felt like working myself into a passion because 
this was impossible. Accordingly, when I repaired 
to a dish of tea, and to have an eye upon Miss Prue, 
my mind was both disordered and perplexed. I 
was grieved to discover that the dowager and my 
dear Miss Canticle had discarded religious topics 
for the secular. Miss Prue was pouring into my 
aunt’s receptive ear some most surprising details 
that presumably adorned the histories of many of 
the brightest ornaments of our world. And she was 
doing this with a vivacity that took my breath away. 

God bless me! yes,” Miss Prue was saying as 
I entered, of course I know my Lady Wensley 
Michigan. A dreadful woman, madam! Plays at 
hazard every night till three, and poor Michigan 
hath to put a new mortgage on his property every 
morning.” 

** Never heard anything so monstrous ! ” cries 
my aunt in horror, but very anxious nevertheless to 


152 


LADY BARBARITY. 


glean as many facts of a similar kind as possible. 
“ And my dear Miss Canticle, are you acquainted 
with the Carews, and the Vortigerns, and those 
people? ” 

“ Am acquainted with ’em all,” cries my dear 
Miss Canticle, with a promptitude and emphasis 
that made me shudder; “ and a pretty company 
they are! Shouldn’t tell you a word of this, my 
dear madam, only it is as well for persons who 
know what virtue is to be forewarned against those 
who don’t.” 

“ Exactly,” says my aunt, with a grim and 
gleaming eye. 

“ Prue,” says I, sweetly as a song, though I was 
pale with rage, “ I am going to dress for supper. 
Come along with me, dear, and I will show you my 
new watered-silk. ’Twill make you dream of it to- 
night.” 

“ A watered silk 1 ” she cried, and instantly 
jumped up and followed me with a wonderful ex- 
citement that only a woman could have shown. 
How could I be angry with a villain with such a 
deal of genius? 

Prue,” says I, as we ascended to my chamber, 
you are a perfect devil.” 

Perfection,” says she, “ is the pinnacle of wom- 
anhood. So long as I am perfect I don’t much care. 
’Tis what I aim at. I would rather far be a com- 
plete fiend than an incomplete she-angel ! For you 
know as well as I do, dear Bab, that every she-angel 
is of necessity an incomplete one.” 


MONSTROUS BEHAVIOUR OF MISS PRUE. 153 

What I wish to know,” I demanded, being well 
aware that I could not argue her out of this position, 
is the exact number of my friends you have sland- 
ered. Do you know that my aunt was speaking 
of the very flower of the aristocracy? Now tell me 
instantly, how long has this gone on? ” 

“ Oh! about a quarter of an hour,” says she, 
with an intolerable impudence, “ and I spoke with 
the rapidity of a woman who is scandalous. Gad! 
I have played my part remarkably.” 

“ Oh, you wretch! ” cries I, “ and what is it that 
you’ve said?” 

Nay,” says she, “ ’tis not what I have said. 
’Tis what I have not said. Let me see: the March- 
ioness of Quorn is bald as a toad when her wig is 
taken off; her ladyship of Chickenley is twenty 
years older than she looks, and hath a married 
daughter. The beautiful Miss Brandysnap drinks 
whisky-possets on the sly, and got the jumps the 
other morning. But that is a family affair, as the 
venerable rake her father had to be carried out of 
the Bodega every evening for a quarter of a cen- 
tury with nine pints of claret under his shirt. Then 
good Madam Salamander hath the fiery temper of 
old Pluto, and almost committed a manslaughter 
on her maid a week last Tuesday. There is a quan- 
tity of other things IVe said, but Til not tarry to 
retail ’em.” 

‘‘Don’t,” I implored her, and took the stopper 
from my phial of aromatic vinegar The Honour- 
able Prudence Canticle was getting on my nerves. 


CHAPTER X. 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO MR. DARE’s PETRUCHIO. 

It was our custom at Cleeby to sit down to the 
evening meal at seven o’clock. We held supper a 
function in our country day. Then it was that the 
Earl, my heroical papa, gout or no gout, would 
grace the table with his embroidered presence, and 
ogle his daughter, or his sister-in-law the ancient 
Caroline. This rather than his eyes, once so bright 
and fatal, should vainly spend their waning lustres 
on a. stolid dish or an unresponsive spoon. The 
poor vamped-up old gentleman, with that monu- 
mental vanity of man that we women feed for our 
private ends, would not admit, even to himself, that 
though this dog had once enjoyed his day, that day 
now was over. He might be condemned to death; 
the wrinkles might strike through his powder; he 
might be toothless, doddering, with a weak action 
of the heart, and his age in a nice proportion to his 
crimes ; he might be propt up in a back-strap and a 
pair of stays, the completest and most ghastly wreck 
in fact you ever set your eyes upon — that is before 
his man had wound him up and set him going for 
the day — but he would never admit that he was old, 
154 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 155 

and that his vogue was buried with his youth. He 
would bow with depth and majesty as of yore, but 
with rather more of Rheumatism; he would toast 
Venus just as often and sigh as profoundly as he 
did so; yet he never took the red wine to his shriv- 
elled lips with quite that gusto that was his wont 
when he had blood and a pulse to grow inflamed in 
the pious ceremony. But he would tell a stranger 
confidentially that though people said his age was 
forty-eight, ’twas very wrong of ’em to talk like that, 
as his proper age was fifty. And I, who really am 
at times a tender-hearted wretch, would melt visibly 
every evening at his decrepit compliments and his 
senile quizzing glasses. What a fine, unsubduable 
old gentleman he was till the hour his wicked soul 
and his corrupt old carcase were consigned to the 
eternal care of that other fine old gentleman to 
whom he had as it were in many ways a sort of 
family resemblance. 

“ Prue,” says I, the moment we conspirators 
were assembled in my chamber, “ this evening you 
have to undergo an Ordeal. We must prepare you 
for it, both in the body and the spirit, with great 
care.” 

I hinted of its nature, and lightly, and not un- 
lovingly touched in the character of that gallant 
heathen, my papa. 

‘‘ La! the naughty old gentleman,” pouts Miss 
Prue. “ I must be careful of him.” 

She assumed a face of copy-book propriety that 
is invariably worn with a pinafore and plaited hair 

II 


LADY BARBARITY. 


156 

at a seminary for young ladies. Then she turned 
to the maid and said: 

“ Now, Emblem, touch my eyes up. And im- 
prove my cheeks a little.” 

Mrs. Polly did as she was bid ; dabbed the pow- 
der on daintily and subtly, made her a provoking 
dimple with uncommon art, pencilled her brows 
arch and swarthy, then heated a hairpin in the can- 
dle and curled her eye-lashes into a provoking 
crispness, a trick she had borrowed from the French. 
Then she selected a new robe for her, even more 
elegant than the one she wore, and while the maid, 
to give her greater ease and comfort in the wearing 
of it, unpicked a portion of the bodice and concealed 
the opened seams by cunning contrivances of lace. 
Miss Prue assiduously practised the poise and move- 
ments of her form. For an hour she went up the 
room and down the room under my direction, with 
skirts gracefully lifted now in two fingers of one 
hand, now in two fingers of the other. And so in- 
telligent and persistent was she that soon she 
seemed to sail across the floor with the lofty im- 
perious motion of a woman of quality. 

Thereafter she besieged the mirror; to practise 
smiling, be it said. Lo! at the first trial there was 
a bewitching dimple at the left corner of her mouth 
revealed. And those lips, how red they were, and 
how inviting! What may not red ochre do? Such 
illumination of those doors of wit looked seducing, 
irresistible. Later, she tried a little trill of laughter. 
What a fluted woodnote did she make of it! Next 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 157 

she tried a little trill and a smile together. The re- 
sult was really too adorable. But to my surprise 
Miss Prue frowned and shook her pretty, wicked 
head. 

“ Bab,’' says she, “ it will not do, dear. I 
showed my teeth, and one is missing, exactly in 
the middle of the upper jaw. You have not a tooth 
that you could lend me, darling? Besides, two 
other prominent members are blackened with de- 
cay. ’Twere best I kept my lips close. And wear- 
ing ’em so tight, I must be careful lest I suck the 
paint off.” 

“ Prue,” says I severely, “ you are more pre- 
cautious than myself when I am robing and pos- 
turing for a conquest. Forbear, my girl, for this is 
vanity.” 

At this she winced, and palpably. I held my 
sides for laughter when I heard the reason why. 

“ Bab,” says she, “ when you call me girl, do 
you know it hurts quite horribly ? ” 

“Girl, girl!” cries I, with great emphasis. 

“ Bab,” says she, with real roses in her cheeks, 
“ if you call me that again Pll punch your — er — I 
mean — I ’ll — er ” 

“ You mean you’ll what, my delightful little 
girlie? ” says I, gloating on her rage. 

“ Fll kiss you,” says she, revealing the red ochre 
on her lips. 

At that I did desist, for I was not sure, judg- 
ing by her looks, whether she was not hoping that 
I would take her at her word. And in any 


158 


LADY BARBARITY. 


case I knew she would be quite the equal of her 
threat. 

“ Certainly I am robing and posturing for a 
conquest,” she resumed. “ To-night, I conquer 
papa.” 

“ What ? ” cries I, aghast at her audacity. 
“ You would never dare! ” 

“ Bab,” saye she, “ I think you will discover that 
Miss Prue is as much a Dare as ever was Mr. An- 
thony. And if he once kissed a heathen, surely 
she may captivate a saint.” 

I thought her impudence was charming, but 
could not let it pass without remark. 

“ You call me heathen, Prue. 'Pon my soul, I 
think the kettle calls the pot 1 ” 

“ Perhaps that is so,” she replied, “ yet you know 
you are a terrible barbarian. Still, to-night I con- 
quer your papa. Why should I support the pains 
without the glory? If I endure the indignity of 
petticoats, let me have their compensations too.” 

Her saucy words brought me a brave idea. 

“ Prue,” says I, “ while you conquer my papa, 
ril go captivate the Captain.” 

Even as I spoke it flashed upon me what I had 
to gain. Let me once reduce him to complete in- 
fatuation, as I had done on a previous occasion, 
then I might venture to divorce him from his duty, 
and prevail upon him to destroy that horrible blue 
paper. The Earl, my papa, would then have nought 
to fear from the Tower. 

Therefore, like Miss Prue, I fell to trimming 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 159 

myself up against the evening. I had out a new ex- 
quisite gown, that was only yesterday from the 
tailors, and a very lovely modish article. And 
what a virginity there is about on unworn dress! 
How unwrinkled and serene is its countenance; 
how chaste and creaseless in its outward semblance 1 
What a wooing look it hath with which to provoke 
the eye and mind of Millamant I Its graces wedded 
to her own, and where’s the bosom to resist that 
combination of art and nature ? Once on, however, 
and the nap is off the velvet of your dress and your 
desire also. The thing is not so perfect as it 
seemed. The armpit chafes you ; there is a gusset 
out of place ; it is a twenty-fifth of an inch too low 
of neck, or a twenty-fifth of an inch too high. The 
sleeve is too much like a pyramid, or not enough 
so. And you fear it is just two days behind the 
time. You would return it to the tailor on the in- 
stant, only — only you so crave to wear it this very 
night. Then you recall that all your others have 
been similar ; fair and smiling failures ; in the ward- 
robe supreme and flawless ; on the body detestable 
and tight. You wear it three times ; it begins to 
cleave to you like a friend, when lo I the silk frays, 
the lilac fades, the mode’s beyond it. I suppose a 
perfect robe ne’er will be fashioned till Nature fash- 
ions a perfect wearer. Your pardon, reader, but I 
am as privileged and fit to soliloquise upon a dress, 
I take it, as a poet is upon the stars, or a philosopher 
upon the dust and destination of his uncle. Ohe! 
jam satis cst. 


LADY BARBARITY. 


i6o 


The Honourable Prue was dressed at last. A 
more ravishing figure I never saw ; all flounce and 
furbelow; sprigs of japonica upon her petticoat; 
her face a painted glamour; a wondrous starry lus- 
tre in her eyes. Emblem put the crowning touches 
to her hair, and applied a special powder to it that 
improved a common yellow to a most uncommon 
gold. I bestowed my best pearl necklace on her, 
fastened a great jewel among her artifice of curls, 
set diamond rings upon her fingers and braceleted 
her wrists, though the manner in which they were 
crammed upon ’em hath yet to be explained. 

How fair she looked, and what an archness in 
her lifted chin and laughing eyes ! Seen under the 
subdued and mellow lamplight, that wrapped soft 
shades and gentle tints about her, I declare I never 
saw one more fortunate in beauty at Kensington 
or Windsor. 

Having thus robed her to perfection and height- 
ened her appearance till she might melt one with 
a look, we put her out and bade her lock herself 
in Emblem’s chamber, whilst inimitable Mrs. Polly 
trimmed me for conquests too. 

In a time, a long way less than half Miss Prue 
had occupied, I was declared to be accomplished 
properly. I wish you could have seen us when 
that young person was fetched in to criticise and 
to stand the ordeal of comparison. She stood be- 
fore me, set her head a little to one side, as if de- 
liberating nicely, and looked over all my inches 
keenly but complacently. 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. i6l 

Huh ! you’re not ugly,” was her verdict. 

“ And you a man ? ” I cries, for I could not 
bring myself to consider that a veritable member 
of the Sex of Victims could damn me with faint 
praise of this sort. 

“ Well, Bab,” he says, “ you are not quite in my 
style, you see.” 

''Your style?” says I, aghast. I, the toast of 
the Prince of Wales, and the source of a thousand 
sonnets, not quite in the style of him ! There was 
a deal of whim and quaintness in the boy. 

“ I like ’em clinging,” says he, modestly. 

You like ’em clinging. You’ll perhaps ex- 
plain,” says I, flicking my fan perilously near his 
ears. 

“ I prefer the twining ivy to the big-eyed dog- 
daisy or the bold chrysanthemum.” 

The fan descended on him smartly. 

“ I can suffer your impudence easier than your 
taste,” I sighed ; “ but both should be prayed for 
in the churches.” 

“ Kissable and kind,” says he, there’s nought 
to beat ’em. A modest violet of a downcast diffi- 
dence, prettily sigheth like a wind of spring; obe- 
dient to a breath; trembles at a look; thinks my 
lord Me the finest person under God. You know 
the kind I mean, Bab; plenty of blush about ’em 
—the very opposite of you.” 

‘‘ My lord Me,” cries I, delightedly, “ that’s you, 
my lad, outside and in. It hits you to the very 
eyebrow, and Man also.” 


LADY. BARBARITY. 


162 


“ To be sure,” saye he, with grandeur, '' if it 
hits Me, it hits Man also. I am Man, and Man is 
Me.” 

And both are the vainest things that breathe,” 
says I. 

“ Except new gowns,” he retorted, villainously. 

“ Pish,” says I, “ I will not bandy with you. 
There is only one thing more deplorable in nature 
than a woman arguing, and that is a boy who is 
impertinent.” 

The time antecedent to the supper bell we spent 
with profit. To-night I must be brilliant if I was 
to make a conquest of a hard-bit officer, who knew 
the world and Madam Ogle. I suggested, there- 
fore, that I was put through a rehearsal now, to 
test the scope of my abilities and school them to 
the part they had to play. 

“ Prue,” says I, “ I must ask you to change 
your alias for twenty minutes. You are to be Cap- 
tain Grantley, and I dear Lady Barbara. We are 
to suppose this chamber to be the library, where 
you sit in weariness, misery, and rage, with your 
shattered knee strapped to a board. There is a blue 
paper in your custody which you have sworn to 
send to London if the prisoner is not retaken in 
a week. I enter to make a conquest of you, with 
the object of exciting you to destroy the document 
you hold. Now, Prue, sit down and turn yourself 
into the Captain, and I will woo you with a greater 
ardour than I ever wooed a man before.” 

“ And by Jupiter and Mars, dear Lady Barbara, 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 163 

you’ve got to do it if you are going to reduce this 
citadel,” says she, becoming Captain Grantley on 
the spot. 

Nothing must suffice her but she should fill a 
warm chair near the fire, with another a yard or 
two away on which to prop her damaged leg. The 
Captain at once began to damn his knee with a 
vigour that was astonishingly lively; called my 
Lady Barbara a saucy jade and something of a 
devil into the bargain for letting rebels out in the 
middle of the night and providing them with pistols. 
Thereupon I sailed up to him, and opened the re- 
hearsal by asking how his leg did. 

“ Oh, it is infernal ! ” cries the Captain with an 
oath. 

I am sorry for it,” says I, sympathetically. 

“ You will be,” says he, grimly, and swore again. 

My dear Captain,” says I, with a wistful soft- 
ness, “it makes me quite dismal, I assure you, to 
discover you in such a grievous strait.” A tear 
stood in my eye. 

“ Dear Lady Barbara,” says he, “ you can tell 
that to my leg.” 

“ Ah, dear Captain,” says I, with soft-breathing 
tenderness, “ I wish you could see into my heart.” 

“ Twould be more difficult than pearl-fishing in 
deep seas,” says he. “Besides, a heart, they tell 
me, is a thing you have not got.” 

“ O, that I had not one ! It would then be in- 
sensible to your masculine perfection that makes 
such a havoc of it now.” 


164 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Poor devil ! ” says he, very softly, and then 
again, “ poor little pretty devil, I wish I were not 
such an extremely handsome man.” 

“ Po-or lit-tle pret-ty dev-il ! ” I repeated, dwell- 
ing on each syllable, for surely arrogance could 
no farther go. 

Now, then, woo away ! ” says he. 

I knew that the real performance was not to be 
of the lightest kind, but if in any way it was to pre- 
sent the difficulties of this rehearsal, heaven help me 
through it! But I told myself not to be daunted 
by a boy, whose behaviour, when all was said, was 
only a piece of mummery. This present subjection 
of the Captain’s heart proved, however, one of the 
sternest businesses I ever undertook. It was a for- 
tress walled with stone and flanked with batteries. 
Again and again I was repulsed in my advances ; 
the energy of my glances, the fire of my speech, the 
assaults of my smiling, were defied and consistently 
cast back. Emblem certainly enjoyed it; I am 
sure the Captain did; and I — well, I found this 
sport of such an exhilarating kind that I began to 
direct my attacks in grim unflinching earnest. I 
began to forget Captain Grantley and Miss Prue, 
and the masquerader in a petticoat, in Anthony 
Dare, the hunted fugitive. For this was the Man 
who at last had come into my life. No doubt about 
it. My lord Me in his sublime unheed of our elab- 
orate Court code of manners, had rudely forced an 
entrance into my sternly-guarded heart. He had 
arrived there by virtue of most audacious bluster- 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 165 

ing, and alack! he looked as though he meant to 
stay. 

Wherefore, though our present passages might 
appear extremely spirited play-acting to Emblem 
and to him, the more I was involved therein, and 
the warmer I became, the less distinctly could I say 
where frolic ended and reality began. Never was I 
so artful as in this amorous farce. A word and a 
look hitherto, had sufficed to fetch a sigh out of the 
choicest waistcoat. To be sure we were engaged 
upon a jest, but pretty soon Mrs. Polly Emblem 
was the only one of us who clung to that opinion. 
The lad had wit enough to see at once that my 
wooing grew too desperately stern to be mere mum- 
mery. When he repulsed my twentieth advance, 
and Mrs. Polly laughed outright at the fun without 
observing that her mistress was biting her lips with 
rage, the young villain, noting my occupation, and 
perhaps the mortification of my face, said: 

Dear Lady Barbara, I beseech you to forget 
me. It gives me terrible great pain to create such 
a flutter in your heart. But, my poor, dear lady, I 
would have you consider that your case is only one 
of many. Truly, I am not responsible for the manly 
graces and the upright character that have brought 
you to this pass. Dear lady, there have been others. 
And to them, tender souls I I invariably promise to 
be a brother ; cheerfully, therefore, will I admit you 
to their number, for 'tis not the least sweet of my 
traits that to my victims I ever am humane.” 

The saucy style of him spurred me so keenly 


i66 


LADY BARBARITY. 


that my methods grew still more vigorous. But 
pleading, soft speeches did but increase his inso- 
lence. Raillery he laughed at; glances amorously 
bold put him in a saucy humour; glances amor- 
ously tender left him cold. He shook his head at 
these devices. 

“ I like 'em clinging," he reminded me. 

I fell upon wistfulness and a pensive air. My 
demeanour grew as subdued and meek as anything 
out of heaven. Butter would not have melted in 
my mouth, you would have thought ; nor, judging 
by the disposition of my countenance, could I have 
said “Bo!" to the arrantest goose of the male 
persuasion. My voice became a low, sweet song, 
and as melodious as the simple airs I used to play 
upon the virginal when I was a girl. That was be- 
fore I learned to play on a more responsive instru- 
ment — Man. I mean, that lordly thing, that harp- 
sichord which beauty and intelligence perform all 
tunes upon at their capricious pleasure. 

Fortune had denied me neither of these requi- 
sites. Full thoroughly had I used this natural 
magic. My finger-tips had thrilled a hundred 
strings. I had played any air I pleased upon a 
Prime Minister, a periwigged Ambassador, a Duke 
with acres and the gout, a Field-Marshal with as 
many stars upon his chest as a frosty night could 
show you ; and at least one Personage, who, being 
of the Blood, it is temerity to mention. If I acted 
Queen Elizabeth to these Sir Walter Raleighs — 
that is, if I so much as wiped my feet upon them — 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 167 

I made them happy for a week. And they had 
their rent rolls and their pedigrees ! Indeed, one 
and all wore such quantities of gold lace on their 
coats that when the world heard of my depredations, 
it exclaimed : ‘‘ Bab Gossiter is the very luckiest 
woman that ever flicked a fan.’’ Therefore, was it 
not a paradox that I should prefer a kinless beggar 
to them all, and that he, presumably, preferred any 
slum-slut to my Lady Barbara ? 

“ Why, you stoic villain ! ” I cried out, “ you 
seem every whit as insensible to tenderness as to 
the Cleopatra manner. Do you not see my mood 
to be as melting as the morning sun ? ” 

“ Confess now,” says he provokingly, ‘‘ that you 
yearn to beat me with your fan ? ” 

“ Faith, that’s true,” says 1. 

“ Then,” says he, “ this tenderness of yours is 
but a cloak you do put on to cover up Old Terma- 
gant. Your real nature is as sweet and gentle as 
an earthquake. Your meekness is a mantrap in 
which to snare a poor wretch with a shattered knee, 
for you are about as tame and docile in your char- 
acter as is a rude lion of Arabia. Fie, my dear- 
est cheat, you do not catch Anthony Dare for your 
husband thus — that is, I mean James Grantley.” 

“ Yes, that is, you mean James Grantley,” says 
I, seizing on his error. 

“ Or, if it comes to that,” says he, you can in- 
clude Mr. Anthony Dare in that category. That is 
another man you will not catch for husband.” 

“ ’Tis a pity,” I said, stroking my chin in a 


LADY BARBARITY. 


1 68 

thoughtful way ; “ for, my lad, I should make you 
a very fiend and Tartar of a wife. Your hair is 
pretty straight at present, but let us set up mat- 
rimony for six months and I would curl it for 
you.” 

“By thunder, you would not!” he cries, sharp 
as the crackling of a musket, and the fire that 
darted from his eye I thought worthy of a clas- 
sical quotation ; “ you would be mild as a milk- 
breasted dove and the obedientest little wifie in the 
world.” 

“ Milk-breasted dove ! Obedientest little wifie ! 
I should indeed,” says I, putting on my fury-look. 
Poor Mrs. Polly and the fops of London were wont 
to tremble at it horribly, but Mr. Anthony never 
so much as honoured it with a blink. 

“ Six months,” says he, quite calmly, “ and 
’twould be, ‘ Barbara, bring my slippers hither,’ 
and hither would they come, without one solitary 
word.” 

“ Without one solitary word ? ” says I ; “ come, 
that is an exaggeration now. Pm sure I should 
reply, ‘ certainly, my lord,’ and drop a curtsey to 
your honour’s worship.” 

“ Not even that,” he said ; “ without one solitary 
word. And I should say, ^ Barbara, fetch my snuff- 
box, ‘ Barbara, darn my hose,’ and so forth. And 
you would do it with an instant obedience that 
would make you a pattern to your sex.” 

“ I suppose your honour would beat me if I 
failed to do this.” 


I PLAY CATHERINE TO DARE’S PETRUCHIO. 169 

Madam, you would not fail. I should be your 
husband.” 

Emblem laughed outright at the sublime stern- 
ness of his face. But I think had that lad put 
forth his hand just then in the manner of a king, 
I must have dropped upon my knees and kissed it 
as a most duteous subject of his majesty. Despite 
his youth, his powder, and his petticoats, as he sat 
there solemnly and said this, he cut a wonderful 
fine figure. 

“ But this is talk,” says I, determined to correct 
his youthful arrogance. “ A kinless beggar may 
not aspire to the hand of a princess.” 

‘‘ And does not wish to do,” says he, and made 
me wince. It seemed that when it came to fisti- 
cuffs he could hit the harder. 

“ Yet if you did you could never marry me, 
you know. A cat may look at a king, but beyond 
that it never goes.” 

'‘That is as may be,” he replied; “but man 
proposes, God disposes, and what doth woman 
do?” 

“ Acquiesces, I suppose,” says I, and groaned to 
think so. 

“ Extremely true,” says he, “ woman acquiesces. 
And if Man, in the person of myself, proposed to 
make a husband for you, your husband I should be 
unless God disposed it otherwise, which is not like- 
ly, for Heaven hath been very much on my side 
hitherto. Deny, an you can, that if to-morrow 
morning I so much as put my little finger up and 


LADY BARBARITY. 


170 

whistled to you, you would be in my arms before 
the evening.” 

“ I do deny it,” says I so fiercely that the blood 
rushed to my face. ^ 

Of course you do,” saye he, you would not 
be a woman else. You can lie as handsomely as 
any. But Fm thinking, my pretty Kate, I should 
make you a monstrous fine Petruchio.” 

‘‘ Bah ! ” I cries with monstrous scorn of him, 
‘‘ the boldest rogue outside the pillory, the rag- 
gedest beggar outside a ballad, playing Petruchio 
to my Lady Barbara ! Have you blood, boy ? have 
you titles? have you acres?” 

“ I have a heart, and I have a fist with which 
to caress and to defend you,” says he, with a ter- 
rible simple candour that pierced my breast like 
steel ; “ and I think I should make you the finest 
husband in the world. That is if I cared to do so 
— which I don’t ! ” 

Here such an agitation fluttered in my bosom 
suddenly, that I began to curse my folly for daring 
to rehearse so dangerous a scene. 


CHAPTER XL 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL; I PLAY WITH A FIRE. 

I SUPPOSE something must have altered in my 
face in my effort to conceal the strange emotion 
that I suffered. For a soft look crept in his eye, 
and he said in that rich voice that had impressed me 
in the stable on the first night of our acquaintancy, 

‘‘ My Lady Barbara, I have not hurt you ? If 
once I pained my benefactress I could ne’er forgive 
myself.” 

N-n-no,” I stammered, for to be quite plain his 
tenderness played a greater havoc with me than his 
strength. 

‘‘ I believe I have,” he says, and a tear was in 
his voice, and such a deal of heaven in his look 
that I could not meet it, and had to gaze upon the 
ground. 

‘‘ N-n-no,” I stammered, and hated him for be- 
ing a beggar and a fugitive, and Mrs. Polly Emblem 
for being in the room. And not less did I hate 
myself for being weak enough to forget my train- 
ing and my sphere of life. 

“ Captain,” I sighed, in the voice of spring 
among the trees, destroy that blue document of 


LADY BARBARITY. 


172 

treason and dishonour, and all shall be forgiven 
you.” 

“ My faith, I will destroy it ! ” he cried, with a 
fire smouldering in him, “ and oh, my dearest lady, 
how good you are ! How magnanimous ! ” 

Our whimsical rehearsal of a play had carried us 
both into a stern earnestness it seemed ; but I being 
the better schooled in deception and the social arts, 
was the quicker of recovery. 

“ Magnanimous ! ” I flashed out at him, and 
curled my lip in scorn, “ you impudent young fool ! 
Do you suppose that anything a beggar with bare el- 
bows, whose mansion is the pillory, and whose car- 
riage is the cart, can contrive to do or say will touch 
in any way my Lady Barbara, the toast of the Prince 
of Wales? You presumptuous rogue, to hear you 
talk one would think you at least a lord-in-waiting, 
or a minister of the Crown.” 

“ Then you are not hurt? ” he did persist. 

“ Hurt,” I laughed, “ if I am bitten with a fly, I 
am not hurt, though perchance I am annoyed.” 

“ You are annoyed, madam? ” he persisted still. 

“ You can call it annoyance, you little fly,” I 
said. 

‘‘ Then let me crave your pardon for it,” he im- 
plored, and the humility was so delightful he did it 
with that sure I could not say which was the most 
appealing — his meekness, his softness, or his inso- 
lence. By good luck the supper bell here inter- 
vened between us and our feelings; a few final 
touches from the maid, and we were tripping down 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 


73 


the staircase to the Ordeal in the dining-room. The 
chamber was bright-lit; the dowager was already 
there, and the Earl, my papa, was momentarily ex- 
pected. Let me confess to being feverish, and in 
a twitter of the nerves. One mishap, and all was 
over. But Miss Prue was the perfection of ad- 
dress; withstood the glare of the candelabra with- 
out a twitch; talked to the dowager with the con- 
fidential light and charming silliness of a girl ; car- 
ried herself with the queenly ease of one born to 
overcome ; played her fan often and superbly ; 
laughed archly with her shoulders in the female 
way, either “ doated ” on a thing, else thought it 
“ horrid,” and slightly patronised my aunt and me 
as one of equal breed, but as superior in her youth, 
and infinitely more so in her charms. 

The vivacious creature was retailing to the dow- 
ager in her engaging fashion the foibles and private 
history, now for the first time published, of that 
“ Old cat the Marchioness of Meux,” when my 
foolish heart sprang in my throat, for the door was 
softly opened, and the Earl, my papa, smirkingly 
minced in. 

I plunged headlong into the Ordeal. Sweep- 
ing up on the instant to his lordship, I saluted him 
with a great appearance of delight and eagerness, 
and sang out then : 

“ So happy that youVe come, my lord ; I am 
dying to present you to my dear Prue Canticle, 
the very Prue I love so, the dearest Prue in Chris- 
tendom ! ” 


174 


LADY BARBARITY. 


His old lordship could not get a word in ere I 
had led him to the lovely minx who was entertain- 
ing my aunt the dowager in such a shocking man- 
ner. Mon pere put on his glasses with the most 
killing simper, quizzed the handsome dog with 
high-bred insolence, and said: 

My dear being, how do you do ? ” 

The old gentleman bowed till you might have 
heard his gout creak. 

Miss Prue flashed her eyes straight through 
him, and replied in a tone whose affectation was by 
no means inferior to his own : 

“ My lord of Long Acre ! My emotion over- 
comes me.^^ 

Mine overcame me also. For she dared to whip 
out a dainty handkerchief of cambric with the de- 
vice B. G.’^ woven into a monogram upon one 
corner. This she flirted and coquetted a quarter of 
a minute, but contrived to play her saucy eyes be- 
hind it in such a style as implied that she was not 
one half so youthful as she looked. His lordship 
was delighted, but the dowager grew as wintry as 
her locks, and endeavoured to arrange our places 
at the table in such a way that Miss Prue and he 
should be severely kept apart. My papa, however, 
was much too early a sort of bird to be out-ma- 
noeuvred thus. Being a trifle deaf, ’twas not un- 
natural that he should utterly ignore the disposi- 
tions of my aunt. The inference was, of course, 
that he had not heard them. Therefore Miss Prue 
and he were somehow seated side by side, and con- 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 


175 


ducted an amiable conversation, not in the mere 
language of the lips alone, but in the more ardent 
one of glances. The waistcoat of his lordship grew 
sigh-deranged, and mighty soon. Every time she 
fretted up her eyebrows, he paid her a compliment 
upon ’em ; sometimes she repaid him with a repar- 
tee, sometimes provoked him to another by a pout- 
ing dimple in her mouth. The glass went often to 
his lips, and the lady was astute enough to encour- 
age his industry without assisting in it. 

“ Barbara,” my aunt whispered, with a severity 
that made me shiver, “ I am afraid your Miss Can- 
ticle is a minx.” 

‘‘ My dear aunt ! ” says I. 

Barbara, I said a minx,” the dowager resumed. 

The way she hath set her cap at his lordship is 
disgraceful.” 

“Set her cap?” I repeated, in deep perplexity, 
“ my dear aunt, I do not know the phrase, and at 
least it must be provincial.” 

“ Coquets, then,” says my aunt, more sternly 
than before. 

“Coquets?” says I; “really, aunt, I am at a 
loss.” 

“ Barbara, she is flirtish,” pursued my aunt, who, 
as I have said already, was a dreadful engine when 
once she was set in motion. 

“ That means, my dearest aunt,” says I, with a 
simplicity wonderful to hear, “ one who attempts to 
trifle with the affections of another, does it not ? ” 

At the word affections I blushed divinely. Yes, 


LADY BARBARITY. 


176 

I know I did, for I was seated opposite a mirror 
(which I generally am) and noted the coming of the 
modest roses with an infinity of pride. 

“ Precisely, Barbara,” says my aunt. 

“ Then I am sure, dear aunt,” says I, with some 
enjoyment, “ that you are under a misapprehension 
in this matter. How possibly could I admit a per- 
son of that character so near my bosom ? ” 

“ But surely,” says my aunt, a very stickler for 
the mode, “ a low-necked gown at supper-time 
should be de rigeur. The one your Miss Canticle 
is wearing is decidedly de trop” 

Tis not altogether decollete” says I, with a re- 
flective air, “ but then, you see, dear aunt, her physi- 
cian says her chest’s so delicate that at informal 
gatherings or in the country it behoves her to pro- 
tect it.” 

“ Dear me,” says my aunt, “ I should not have 
thought it now. She doth not appear a particu- 
larly delicate or fragile kind of flower.” 

Appearances are deceptive,” says I, with a 
solemnity that padded out my wisdom. 

“ They are,” says my aunt. There was a sig- 
nificance hidden somewhere in her voice that made 
me quail. “ For I do observe that there is a spe- 
cial robustness about her appetite that would not 
suggest much delicacy in anything.” 

I shot a look across at the wretched Prue, and 
saw quite enough to justify my aunt. The manner 
in which that young person was partaking of a 
woodcock at the same instant as she was leading 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 


177 

on my lord was most astounding. Before or since 
I have not seen a girl eat like it. 

Oh, I am a cruel, horrid thing,” says I to my 
aunt. “ To think of that poor child having come 
a journey, and being several hours in this house, 
and I not to have offered her a morsel till just now.” 

“ Barbara,” says my aunt to me, and sweetly, 
in your absence from my tea-table I entreated 
her to partake of muffins and bohea. She had the 
goodness to reply that she had no partiality for 
sops, as she was neither a baby nor a bird.” 

“ La, that’s my Prue,” cries I, laughing out 
aloud ; she is the dearest, originalest creature. 
Oh, the quaint girl! sure I can see her saying that 
with a merry twinkling sort of look! ” 

“ Similar to the one she is now displaying to 
his lordship,” says my aunt. 

“ Well, scarcely,” I replied, “ her expression 
would be rather drier and more contained than that. 
And oh, dear aunt! I had better tell you that this 
madcap, Prue, takes a particular delight in surpris- 
ing and disconcerting those who are insufficiently 
acquainted with her character.” 

“ She very well succeeds,” my aunt said. “ Yet, 
my dear, I must confess that you astound me. Her 
letters are perfect piety; they paint her as the soul 
of modesty, and quite marvellously correct. I 
should have judged her to be a highly genteel 
person.” 

“ On the strength of her epistles, I should also,” 
I replied, but then I know my wicked, roguish 


178 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Prue. That reverential tone she uses in them is 
another of her freaks, you see, dear aunt.” 

Alas ! this straw was altogether too much for 
the poor indignant camel. 

‘‘ Barbara ! ” says my aunt, “ I desire you to 
forego in the future all intercourse with this — this 
person.” 

Meantime Miss Prue and my papa, the Earl, 
were becoming perilously intimate. There was a 
stream of brimming wine-pledging wit that flowed 
between them, very entrancing and alluring, to a 
favourite toast, who sat outside the pale of it talk- 
ing to her aunt. 

What a pair they made, this old beau masquer- 
ading as a young one, and this nameless, tattered 
beggar masquerading as his mistress ! And life or 
death was the stake for which he, poor lad, played. 
I could not bear to think of his position. It turned 
my bosom cold. But how consummate was his 
game ! With what genius and spirit did he conduct 
it! And I think I never saw such courage, for it 
must have called for a higher fortitude than any of 
the battlefield. Looking oh this pair in the wonder 
of my heart I was far too fired in the brave lad’s 
cause, not to mention the urgence of my own, to 
once forget the Captain fretting solitary in his 
bonds. Therefore I remembered that my hour for 
action was at hand. 

After the meal, I waited till this trio were seated 
at the cards; then having lent Prue a sufficiency 
of money to enable her to play, I told my aunt that 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 


179 

I proposed to go and cheer the Captain in his soli- 
tude. 

The unhappy wretch was greatly as I had left 
him. He was perhaps a little gaunter from his 
fretfulness. But his knee was not easier, nor his 
heart more peaceable. 

“ Captain,” I announced myself as sweetly as 
could be, “ I know you to be mortal dull in this ex- 
tremity. Therefore if I can I am come to cheer 
you in it. And I have a deal of compassion for 
you.” 

The Captain could not quite conceal his look of 
pleasure, and, reading it, I took the tone and speech 
I had used to be exceeding pat to the occasion. 

“ How good of you, my Lady Barbara,” says he, 
with a gratefulness I knew to be sincere, “ to think 
of me in my affliction; nay, how good of you to 
think of me at all,” 

At first I was confounded that a man so shrewd 
and piercing in his mind as Captain Grantley, 
should be so disarmed with my simple airs, and be 
so unsuspicious of a motive for them. But then a 
lover is very jealous of himself, and if the object of 
his adoration tells him to his face that she some- 
times thinks about him, and proves the same by her 
presence at his side, he is so anxious to believe her 
that he the more readily persuades himself of her 
veracity. Besides, Beauty makes the wise man 
credulous. Sure it is hard to disbelieve her, else 
her amorous fibs and her sighing insincerities ne’er 
would have slain so many of the great figures of 


i8o 


LADY BARBARITY. 


the histories. Even the Antonys must meet their 
Cleopatras. 

“ Ah, dear lady,” says the Captain, with a sparkle 
in his manly features that became them very well, 
“ the prospect that your presence brings makes me 
almost happy in my accident. A bitter wintry 
night, a rosy fire, a bottle of wine, and a lively con- 
versation with one whose beauty is the rival of her 
mind — surely this is the heart’s desire? ” 

He prayed me to seat myself beside the blaze. 
I did this, for I thought the place was favourable, 
as by the position, of the lamp it threw my figure 
in the shade. Do not think I feared to compete 
with the braveries of light ; but I hold that the tints 
of it should be harmonised with the tones and feel- 
ings of the players. In the theatre they are careful 
not to burn blue fire at a love scene. And to-night 
as I was not to attempt a victorious entry of the 
Captain’s heart with a pageant of smiles, and a flash- 
ing magnificence of eye, the glow must be tempered 
to the mood of tenderness, and sympathy, and mild 
solicitude. I was deeply anxious for his leg. I 
could never blame myself too much. Should I ever 
be forgiven it? 

I was forgiven now, he told me, and when I 
asked him in what manner, his answer was : 

All my animosity is slain by your sweet, kind 
sighs, my dearest lady.” 

Here was a sufficient gallantry, I thought, and 
noted, too, that a special warmth was come into his 
tone. There was a bottle and a glass against his 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. igi 

elbow, and he drained a bumper to my eyes, while 
I sat listening to the whistling of the wind. 

^Twas a wild night of the late November. You 
could hear the branches rock before the gale: the 
cold groanings of the blast among the crazy walls 
and chimneys, its shriekings in the open park, the 
sounds that fluttered strangely from the ivy, and, 
most of all, the sudden comings of the rain and 
hail as it crashed upon the window-panes. It stirred 
the fire up and made the flames leap, and contrived, 
as I bent across the hearth to do this, to restore 
a detached curl to its right condition on my brow. 

“ A stormy night and wintry ” — I shivered as I 
spoke — “ and that poor lad, that fugitive, hiding in 
it for his life.” 

While I uttered this, I could so clearly see the 
shaking trees and the wind-swept wolds cuddling 
together in the cold that I think the wildness of the 
elements was echoed in my voice. 

“ Madam,” says the Captain, turning on me a 
solemn, weary face that was full of instant sadness, 
“ you and I do ill to be together. Madam, I have 
my duty to perform, and as that duty is cruelly op- 
posed to your desires and must prejudice your 
peace. Madam, I ask you how I can possibly per- 
form it if you sit there so friendly in the kindness 
of your heart? Madam, you forget that when the 
best is said of me I am but a man, and, maybe, not 
a very strong one, and that so long as you sit there 
by the fire to cheer me in my pain, I am in the pres- 
ence of a divinity whose look it is the law.” 


LADY BARBARITY. 


182 


You wish me to withdraw, sir? ” says I, regret- 
fully and meekly; and, though I was never better 
complimented, I pretended to be hurt. Therefore, 
I rose suddenly upon his words. 

“ The King’s commission would be safer,” he re- 
plied. 

“ I know it would,” says I, “ and by that token 
am I going to stay. A rebel. Captain, snaps her 
fingers at the King.” 

Thereupon I as suddenly sat down. But none 
the less I admitted the prudence and foresight of the 
Captain; also thought his situation was a pretty 
one. He knew the weakness of his heart and the 
imminence of his duty, and that in my humble 
person he had found a .most determined enemy 
to both. He was in my toils, indeed, nor must I 
loose a single bond ere the pressure had been 
applied, and his will had been bent to my de- 
vices. 

Therefore, with gentle smiles I played him. 
Tender was my interest in his mental state and 
physical; deplored as deeply his splintered limb as 
his heart’s disturbance; and wore an ingenious air 
of sympathy, both for him and for myself, that I 
should have unwittingly conferred such pain upon 
an unoffending gentleman. 

“ My dear Captain, had I only known,” says I, 
I would neither have bestowed a pistol on a pris- 
oner nor a glance upon yourself.” 

I cannot say which has wrought the greater 
havoc,” says the Captain, lifting up his painful face. 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 1 83 

“ Sir, you can, I think,” says I, gazing at him 
with my brightest eyes. 

He admitted the witchery of them, for he 
laughed and dropped his own. 

“ True,” he sighed. “ God help me! ” 

“ This is no particular season for your prayers,” 
I answered, softly, and sighed much the same as he. 
“ Am I so much a devil ,then, or to be avoided like 
one? Had you been a brother I could not deplore 
your accident more tenderly.” 

“ No, no; not that,” says he. 

“ Perhaps, sir, you will explain?” says I, in full 
enjoyment of his uneasiness. 

“ I am afraid of liking you too well,” he rejoined, 
with the soldier’s bluntness. The prisoner’s escape, 
I ought to tell you, had killed the fop. 

“That all?” I exclaimed in sweet surprise. 
“ Dear, dear! liking me too well — how singular! ” 

“ Alas, too well ! ” he echoed, with a great ap- 
pearance of high feeling, “ for would you have me 
false to the King and to myself? ” 

“ Oh, politics ! ” I laughed, but noted that damp 
beads were come upon the Captain’s forehead. 
“ And my dearest man,” I added, “ you behold in 
me the most harmless being — I that cannot suffer 
a rebel to be hanged — the most artless, harmless 
creature I assure you.” 

Poor wretch! I saw him wriggle in his bonds. 
’Twas a very futile effort, as now I had drawn the 
cords so tight about him that he was laid submissive 
as a sheep. To-night, I think, a marble statue could 


LADY BARBARITY. 


184 

not have resisted the appealing brightness of my 
eyes. They never were more cordial, more allur- 
ing, more perilous to the soul of man. Therefore, 
in one short hour the Captain was undone. His 
resolution was being gradually beaten, as I could 
plainly tell, and I felt grim satisfaction stiffen me, as 
I settled myself cosily within the warmth, and pre- 
pared a reception for my prey. 

I have said that it was a loud night of winter, 
and the wind crying from the east; now screaming 
in the chimneys, now rattling the panels and the 
casements, now calling with its ghostly voices away 
there in the wood. It was a night for adventure, 
and Captain Grantley fortified himself with wine, 
because he was about to embark on one, and that 
the most perilous. 

The Captain’s fair companion was wonderfully 
kind. He noted it, and took it as a confirmation of 
his late opinions. Now and then she was some- 
thing more than kind, and on the strength of that 
he toasted her, while she hinted that she was not 
displeased. Presently she drew her chair ten 
inches nearer to him, and soon tongues and hearts 
were most harmoniously flowing. Outside, the 
wind was ever rising, and sometimes it cast gusts of 
smoke down the wide chimney, and as it poured 
into the room the lady would shiver with sweet ex- 
aggeration and denounce the horrid north. 

“ Had she quite regretted her journey to the 
north? ” 

Yes, but for one circumstance.” 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 1 85 

** And what was that, if she would deign to for- 
give his importunity? ” 

She had met a soldier at her country-house.” 

It was not delicate, it was characteristic, it was 
the sort of thing only my Lady Barbara could say; 
but Captain Grantley would have burnt his leg 
rather than it should have been unsaid. This was 
but the first of many speeches that astonished and 
delighted him. To-night the lady was never more 
certain of herself, nor was the Captain ever less so. 
Inch by inch the unwilling victim was lured to his 
doom. 

Presently a servant brought in his supper on a 
tray that gleamed with damask and silver dishes. 
Under her ladyship’s permission he ate and drank, 
but every minute his gaze was straying to his dan- 
gerous companion, whose little shoes were toasting 
on the hearth. Many moments of that depressing 
day his mind had been for her. Some bright, brave 
gesture jumped up from his bosom to his eyes; a 
word, a smile, a tone, her charming indignation, 
her lovely anger against himself and politics, her 
frank impertinence, her amazing candour, and above 
all, her apartness from the common herd of women 
— elegant but featureless. To be explicit, that was 
how she held poor man. A woman quite unlike her 
sisters, yet as feminine as anything that ever fibbed 
and trailed a petticoat. The lords of creation most- 
ly deign to take us women to themselves the mo- 
ment they can be persuaded that they have caught 
an entirely new variety. The principle is similar to 


LADY BARBARITY. 


1 86 

the one we work upon when we wear a new brocade, 
or the newest hat with feathers on. If one meets 
Mrs. Araminta flaunting in the same, one pulls it off 
and promptly, and bestows it on one’s maid. And 
had my Lady Barbara reminded Captain Grantley, 
though never so remotely, of the worthy lady of his 
friend. Major Blunder of the Blues, or of any other 
female whatsoever, he would have seen her at the 
devil rather than he would have wooed her, and 
callow Cornet Johnson could have had her for the 
asking. But a certain originality of artifice grafted 
on a spontaneity of nature, and Bab Gossiter con- 
trived to be just herself, and not to be mistaken for 
any other creature, and was coveted accordingly 
by the vanity of every bachelor in the town of 
London. 

Thus with Captain Grantley. In his time the 
dear man had had a large experience of women. 
Some, maybe, he had seen more statuesque, more 
goddesslike, more rigidly and correctly beautiful, 
yet never one quite so much herself, so entirely her- 
self, so open yet so elusive, so quick, so captivating. 
As the evening went, as the board was cleared, and 
the Captain’s words grew warmer, their talk com- 
peted in its energy with the animated winds that 
struck the windows. 

Now, sir, tell me of these barbarous politics,” 
she commanded, like one who only knows obedi- 
ence. 

“ Nay, dear lady, tell me of your own,” says he. 

Strange how she was fired by his words! He 


I UNDERGO AN ORDEAL. 187 

saw her colour glow and burn, and the lamps in her 
eyes were lit. 

“ My father is my politics,” says she. 

The Captain could not have recoiled more palpa- 
bly had a live coal cracked out of the blaze and 
dropped upon his hand. 

‘‘ Ha! ” he breathed, “ your father! ” 

“ Sir, they will imprison him ; and when they do 
they will imprison this very heart of mine. Per- 
haps, sir, you never knew a father, perhaps you 
never loved a father, perhaps you never saw a fa- 
ther’s honourable silver hairs. Sir, they will im- 
prison him ; and when they do, life will be all empty 
to me.” The lady fell into a sudden weeping. The 
sobs shook her as a reed. And though she fought 
with all her handkerchief against the slow but cer- 
tain tears they crept down to her powder, and so 
gravely furrowed it that afterwards she shrank the 
farther in the shade. 

But through a convenient interval of cambric 
this distressed daughter intently marked the Cap- 
tain’s face. The good man had been long appren- 
ticed to the sword and to the world, but sure the 
lady’s agonies did move him. 

"‘Tell me,” he said, “what I can do? What is 
my power? I am but a servant of the King. Mad- 
am, do you think it is my pleasure to put you in such 
pain? Madam, I am but a menial, a tool. I am 
not the law by which you suffer, and if I were, do 
you suppose I would not let it spare you?” There 
was a fine indignant sternness in the man that made 
13 


LADY BARBARITY. 


1 88 

the lady tremble. Yet she exulted, too, for Captain 
Grantley was steadily ripening to the deed exacted 
of him. In confidence, however, I had better tell 
you that this incorrigible Bab Gossiter, like the 
naughty child she was, was playing with a fire, and 
in the sequel which she is pledged to presently set 
forth, you shall be told how badly that fire burnt 
the lovely, heedless fool. 


CHAPTER XII. 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 

It was a late hour when the lady apparently ex- 
posed her soul. She had not one to expose, it is 
true, but the Captain was deluded into thinking 
that she had, and persuasion is more powerful than 
fact. Her father was her blood, her breath; his 
honour was her own. The Captain gave her the 
humble admiration of a soldier. Daughters of this 
mould, who could worship a parent in this manner, 
must always command the tender reverence of one 
whose dream was to be the diligent servant of his 
country. He was also touched. Men of the sword 
are very human, he informed her. It was a relief, 
she replied, to have that on such eminent authority, 
because, to avenge the joyous escapade of an inno- 
cent girl, a soldier had proposed to treat her ven- 
erable sire with a brutality that was incredible. 
She did not refine her language to his delicate ear. 
How could she, being moved so deeply? Did not 
her lips twitch with feeling, her eyes flash with pas- 
sion? Alas the Captain! He might have seen 
the drums and tramplings of three conquests,” but, 
being human, could he resist her generous anguish, 

189 


190 


LADY BARBARITY. 


her lovely indignation? Nay, he swore it, he was 
pained for her as deeply as ever she was for her fa- 
ther. But the word “ avenge ” he resented sternly. 

“ Madam, I say again, I am not the law. I am 
merely the puppet who obeys it.” 

“ Must he obey it then? ” Madam tapped a satin 
shoe quite loud upon the hearth-tiles. 

“ I hold a commission; I am but a puppet,” 
groaned the Captain, with cheeks of the colour of 
the damask at his side. 

“A puppet!” She rose a queen, and cast the 
phrase upon him. “A puppet! Then, sir,” de- 
manded she, “ do you suppose I can afford to lavish 
my precious hours upon a puppet? ” 

An excellent tactician, she swept from the room, 
offended and imperious, without condescending to 
receive his tremulous reply. In her wisdom she 
knew this to be the proper moment to withdraw. 
The Captain had been carried by easy stages to a 
sufficient harmony of heart. This final discord 
must jangle in his finest nerves for many hours, set 
his teeth on edge, and keep him fretful. The lady 
calculated that he would not shut his eyes that night. 
He had been given a sight of happiness, that he 
might know how much he stood to lose. 

My train was laid then. Let a spark fall from 
my eyes to-morrow, and I did not doubt it, it would 
blow his duty to the devil. One learns to read the 
symptoms that precede explosion. Leaving the 
Captain I tripped to the card-players on my lightest 
toe. My heart accorded with my step. The trio 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


I9I 

were now at commerce ; and such a handsome heap 
of coins was piled before Miss Prue that the guinea 
I had lent her to begin with appeared magnified 
into a dozen. 

Bab,” says she, turning to me with a pretty 
eagerness. “ I am remarkably in luck. I have 
turned the ace up five times running — and my con- 
science, here it is the sixth ! ” 

It was midnight now, and the hour for retire- 
ment. The suite of chambers in the south wing 
were happily at my disposal. One room com- 
manding the park had been aired during the day by 
my direction, to be in readiness that night for the 
masquerader. He was conducted to it now by Mrs. 
Emblem and myself, and was given much instruc- 
tion in the treatment of his feminity. Two new 
morning dresses of my own were hung up in his 
wardrobe; a pot of rouge and a whole armoury of 
weapons of the toilet were put against his mirror; 
and such a quantity of advice was strewn upon him 
touching his carriage and behaviour on the mor- 
row, that he began to yawn in a most abominable 
manner, and declared I was too earnest in this 
mummery. 

“ Mummery,” says I, “ you are playing for your 
life, that’s all, my bravo.” 

“ My life, yes,” says he ; “ but that is my affair 
entirely. Have you not said that a beggar with 
bare elbows is no more to be considered than is a 
farthing candle by a person of condition like your- 
self? ” 


192 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Mrs. Emblem saw the cunning laugh lurking in 
his eye and the smile that trickled over his lower 
lip when he said this, and looked at me with a 
face of inquiring innocence, as though the lad had 
been speaking Greek and would my superior edu- 
cation be kind enough to supply the meaning for 
her. At a second glance I perceived that the ex- 
pression of her countenance corresponded pretty 
nearly with his own. This made me angry. Here 
was tacit understanding and conspiracy, with secret 
mirth beneath it. I could have borne this easily — 
nay, was always blithe to take my share in such 
spicy sport when able, and enjoy a laugh at others 
with the best. But this impudent pair were laugh- 
ing at me. Yes, Tfelt genuinely angry. 

“ Very true,” says I, “ you are indeed a beggar 
with bare elbows. And being that, it is a pity you 
should evince such a disposition to forget ‘it.” 

“ My dear madam, the fault is yours, I think,” 
says he. “ For if you will have as much anxiety 
for my well-being as you would have were I the 
Cham of Tartary or some other three-tailed bashaw 
of high birth, merit, and authority, even a beggar 
will be led in time to presume upon it and forget 
the humility of his mansion.” 

“Would you taunt me then with my gentle- 
hearted nature, that permits me to look as kindly 
on the mean and low as on the noble and exalted? ” 

“ Was my Lady Barbarity ever taunted with her 
gentle-hearted nature? ” 

It was so difficult to have the laugh of him. 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


193 


that I began to admire the agility with which he 
generally contrived to have the laugh of me. The 
fact was that the rogue had an instinct that pene- 
trated much too far. He knew better than I could 
tell him that he had caught a gaily-painted butterfly 
and had stuck it on a pin. His wanton fingers 
itched to twirl that pin to remind, I suppose, the 
gaudy, flimsy creature of its strange captivity. 

“ Bab,” Miss Prue says, as I was about to retire 
to my chamber, “ your papa trusts that I shall spend 
not less than a month at Cleeby. When he said 
that your aunt seemed to grow uneasy in her soul.” 

“Poor auntie,” I says, sympathetically; “but 
Prue, I hope you know what a wretch you are? 
And the way you eat is positive immodesty. My 
aunt observed it. As for the way in which you 
played his lordship, it was too notorious for words. 
My aunt observed that also. In fact, in half an 
evening you have so stabbed the dear creature 
through her sex, that she will ne’er forgive you 
for it.” 

“ Pray recite my errors,” says he, flinging him- 
self into an arm-chair, and stretching out his legs 
and crumpling his petticoats. “ Your voice is so 
musical it will send me to sleep as promptly as a 
powder.” 

He shut his eyes at this and dropped his chin 
upon his necklace. Nodding to Mrs. Polly I went 
off to my dressing-room, followed by my maid. 
But on opening the door to step from one chamber 
to the other, we heard plain sounds of feet across 


194 


LADY BARBARITY. 


the corridor and the rustle of departing draperies. 
’Twas too dark to distinguish anything, and though 
we promptly went in the direction of the noise, the 
cause of it was under cover before we could in any 
way detect it. 

Now I was certain that a spy had been set upon 
us, and peradventure we had been overheard. 
Could anyone have listened at the door? Twould 
be fatal had they done so. The masquerader had 
by no means conducted his share of the conversa- 
tion in a Prue-like voice; besides, the discussion of 
certain matters and its general tenour would be 
quite enough for any eavesdropper to put a name 
upon the lady’s true identity. Our carelessness had 
been indeed of the grossest sort; we had not re- 
strained ourselves with one precaution. Low 
tones, an occasional eye upon the door, the selec- 
tion of a proper topic, and there had been nought to 
fear from anybody. But as it was we were prob- 
ably undone. Our own incaution was indeed bit- 
terly to blame. In my chamber I let Emblem see 
the darkness of the whole affair, and gave her free- 
ly of my fears; also scolded her so sharply for our 
accident that the frightened fool began to weep like 
anything. But there was one point in her behavi- 
our that both pleased and annoyed me. When I 
told her that if it was verily a spy who had been 
at the keyhole our sprightly Prue would dance 
at Tyburn shortly, Mrs. Polly gave a little gasp 
and a little cry, let fall the hair-brush she was 
wielding on my head, and burst out in new tears. 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


195 

while her cheeks turned to the colour of my shoul- 
ders. 

Oh, your la’ship! ” she blubbered, with a deal 
of tragicality, “ say not so.” 

“ Simpleton,” says I, sternly. “ I shall begin to 
think you regard this beggar — this rebel — this ad- 
venturer — almost like a brother if you so persist- 
ently bear yourself in this way when I mention quite 
incidentally, as it were, his proper and natural des- 
tination.” 

“ He hath most lovely eyes, your ladyship,” 
says she, and wept more bitterly. 

“ Ods-body! you are not so far wrong there,” 
says I, turning a sigh into a yawn adroitly. “ Hath 
he kissed you yet? ” ^ 

“ Once, I think, ma’am,” she answers, with a 
modest rose appearing through her pallor. 

“ Hath he an opinion of you, then, or was it 
pastime, merely?” 

“ ’A told me I was kissable,” says she, “ a pretty 
downcast sort of wench, your la’ship, and swore 
upon his beard that if he came out of this predica- 
ment with his heart still underneath his chin he’d 
the best half of his mind to marry me.” 

Here the hussy sighed so desperately from the 
full depth of her bosom that a spasm was provoked 
within my own. To allay that pain I took the love- 
sick Mrs. Emblem by the arm and pinched her 
till she forgot her heart-ache in one that was less 
poetical. 

Retiring to my earned repose, I found sleep at 


LADY BARBARITY. 


196 

first as coy as she is in town. For half an hour I 
thought on the impudence of my maid, for another 
half on the folly of myself. 

“ Bab,” I soliloquised at the end of an hour’s 
meditation on this entertaining theme, “ you should 
be whipt through every market town in Yorkshire. 
You are worse than an incorrigible rogue, you are 
an incorrigible fool; but any way at nine o’clock 
to-morrow morning you shall dismiss Mrs. Polly 
Emblem without a character.” 

Had it not been that I had ratafia to compose 
me I doubt whether I should have had any sleep at 
all. The fear of discovery lay upon me like a 
stone. I was persuaded that we had been spied 
upon. Slumber, however, mercifully drew a cur- 
tain round the miserable consequences embodied in 
the future. 

Emblem’s light hand woke me. 

“ Ten o’clock, your la’ship,” says she. 

The red sun was in a station over the tree tops 
in the east, and sent cold rays across the winter 
vapours of the park through one corner of my win- 
dow. I sipped my chocolate, and hoped the rebel 
was not abroad yet. 

“ He is,” the maid said ; “ nought would restrain 
him. At seven o’clock he knocked me up and made 
me get him towels and cold water for his tub; at 
eight o’clock, my lady, he made me paint his face, 
friz his hair a bit, put his headdress on, and arrange 
all the points in what he called his ‘ feminine ma- 
chinery ’ ; at nine he was drinking ale and eating of 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


197 


his breakfast; and ten minutes since I saw him in 
the morning room teaching my Lady Grimstone’s 
polly-parrot to swear like anything.” 

“ Oh,” says I, “ a very pretty occupation to be 
sure. Here, girl, put me in my deshabille, and let 
me be upon him ere he's at a further mischief. 
Quick, wench, or next we shall have him teaching 
hymns to my papa.” 

Half an hour hence I went downstairs to keep a 
personal eye upon him. I had not been there five 
minutes when my aunt’s maid, Tupper, came in and 
said that her mistress required my presence in her 
room immediately. As the message was so per- 
emptory I dallied some five-and-twenty minutes 
longer than I need, for I think that persons of an 
elderly habit should never be encouraged in their 
arbitrary courses. Had I only foreseen what lay in 
store when I obeyed this summons, I should have 
taken my muff and tippet with me to protect myself 
from frostbite. You may have seen an iceberg 
clad in all its severities of snow, sitting in a tempera- 
ture that makes you shiver. If you have had this 
felicity you have also seen my aunt, the dowager, 
this wintry morning. She smiled a December sun- 
glint when she saw me. 

“ Barbara, good morning,” she began. 

Good morning, ma’am,” says I, and curtsied. 

“ I trust you are very well,” my aunt says. 

“ Very well indeed, ma’am,” I answered modest- 
ly. I’ll confess a little nerve-twitch. ’Twas a 
charming idiosyncrasy of my aunt’s that she only 


LADY BARBARITY. 


198 

betrayed an interest in one’s health when she was 
about to administer a pill of one sort or another. 
She was about to administer one just now — a blue 
one! 

“ I have sent for you, Barbara,” says the dow- 
ager, in shivery thin tones that were like cold water 
trickling down one’s spine, “ to inform you that 
your dear friend. Miss Prudence Canticle, your 
ownest Prue, the dearest Prue that ever was, the 
precious Prue, to whom all the world is but as a 
china tea-cup, is just a man, and a very pretty scoun- 
drel.” 

An elderly lady of six-and-fifty winters, whose 
face is Arctic, and is framed, moreover, in cork- 
screw curls that look horribly like icicles, can throw 
an extraordinary stress and feeling in the mild word, 
“ man.” And this instant, such an amount did my 
aunt employ that a feather might have knocked me 
down. 

“ Shall I tell you this man’s name?” the pitiless 
dowager inquired. 

In assent I bowed my head. 

'' Anthony Dare,” says she, with unction ; ‘‘ es- 
caped rebel, who is to be hanged as a common male- 
factor.” 

“Yes, aunt, Anthony Dare,” says I; “and ^tis 
all very true, except in the main particular. He 
is not to be hanged as a common malefactor.” 

“ Indeed,” says she. “ But that is the Govern- 
ment’s disposition, I understand.” 

“ I do not deny that it is the Government’s dis- 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


199 

position, ma’am, but ’tis not the disposition of your 
niece, Bab Gossiter.” 

“ You are the law, then, Barbara? ” 

“ Nine-tenths of it,” says I. 

“ Assertion will be a proof when assumption be- 
comes a claim,” says my sententious relative. 

“ Possession is allowed to be nine-tenths of it,” 
says I ; “ and certainly I have possession of this 
most charming prisoner.” 

“ A very temporary one,” my aunt says. “ ’Tis 
my duty to advise my brother of this matter; and 
he will hold it his to acquaint Captain Grantley and 
other interested persons.” 

That is as it may be,” says I, calmly, “ for I 
think that on reflection, my dearest aunt, you will 
do nothing of the kind.” 

“ So and indeed ! ” cries my aunt, in an awful 
voice. “ Barbara, this is gross — this is imperti- 
nence.” 

“ It may be both, dear aunt,” says I, “ or it may 
be neither, but its truth, I know, and that I’ll swear 
to.” 

‘‘Defend my virtue!” cried my aunt; “this is 
beyond all suffering.” 

The iceberg strove to freeze me with her eye. 
And perhaps she would have done it, too, only that 
a bright idea took me at the moment and armed me 
with new brazenness. My masters of the other sex, 
if you would bend us to your will, do it with auda- 
city. No palterings, no if-you-pleases, no apos- 
trophes. Big, bullying Coercion does our business. 


200 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Swear by your beards and the god of thunder, and 
none of us shall say you nay, for there is not a petti- 
coat among us can resist you. This method, then, 
I clapped upon my aunt, and now look you to the 
sequel. 

“The matter is just this, dear aunt,” says I. 
“ What about prim old Dame Propriety? I would 
have you think of her, dear aunt. There is not a 
female of us all can afford to disregard her.” 

I pinned such a steady eye upon my aunt that 
shortly her high look drooped and was replaced by 
an ugly one of baffled rage. How fortunate I had 
ingenuity enough to hold that cat's paw! Twould 
have scratched me else, and badly. 

“What will the world say, auntie dear?” I 
asked. “ A word of this in town and the particular 
family to which you have the condescension to be- 
long will be derided by the world. My Lady Clap- 
per will live upon it for a fortnight. Your very dear 
friend, Mrs. Saywell, will dispense it regularly with 
her new bohea and dish it up hotter than her muf- 
fins, and feed every insatiable man in Mayfair on it. 
Nor will they find it indigestible as her buttered 
crumpets either. A word, dear aunt, and the whole 
bench of Bishops will preach a sermon on it, and 
send all your presentation stoles and slippers back 
greatly discoloured with their tears. We shall be 
afflicted with the exultation of our enemies and, 
worse a hundred times, the commiseration of our 
friends. Will you not reflect, dear auntie? ” 

For the dear lady to reflect was quite unneces- 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


201 


sary. Instinct was sufficient to decide her. She 
was as likely to rouse good Dame Propriety, or to 
make her family the source of common conversa- 
tion, as she was to sit in a pew with a hassock in it, 
or to listen to a Low Church clergyman. 

The countenance of my aunt was something to 
be seen. Rage laid her livid; but I was almost 
proud to look at her, for was she not bred so proper- 
ly that she smiled away like anything? She put 
her teeth hard upon her lips, and so did bar her 
anger back, and continued in that pleasant face that 
cooled my blood by three degrees. 

“Very well, Barbara,” says she, without the 
faintest passion, though it had required several sec- 
onds to give her this composure, “ very well. But 
if I outlast the century I will not overlook this mon- 
strous conduct. From to-day I disinherit you. 
And I may say that one portion of my fortune will 
be diverted into building and endowing a church at 
St. Giles’s in the Fields; the other portion to pro- 
vide a sanctuary for needy gentlewomen.” 

Somewhere in the middle of the day I thought 
the hour a chosen one to finish off the Captain. 
With such an application had I pursued the gallant 
man the previous evening, and such his frame of 
mind, that surely he was suffering even now an 
ecstasy of sweet pain. Another amorous glance or 
two would certainly complete him and drown his 
duty in his desperation. These reflections carried 
me to the library door. On entering I was met by 
the Captain’s greeting and the presence of an unpro- 


202 


LADY BARBARITY. 


pitious third. Corporal Flickers was in an osten- 
tatious occupation of my seat against the fire-place. 

When you are alone, sir, I shall be glad to 
speak with you,” I said, this being a hint for the dis- 
missal of the Corporal. 

“ Important business occupies me most unfortu- 
nately just now,” the Captain said ; and I retired to 
await his disengagement. 

I conceived this to be perhaps the matter of an 
hour, but never was more faulty in my reckoning. 
At three o’clock I sent to inquire of his convenience. 
’Twas not yet, however, as the Corporal was with 
him still; moreover, said the Captain, in reply, he 
was like to be so until far into the evening. At 
supper-time they were together also. On Emblem 
looking farther in the matter, she learned that at 
the request of the Captain the Corporal had been 
served with food there. 

We were discussing this strange affair in the 
privacy of my boudoir, when Mr. Anthony, whose 
fund of shrewdness served him in a thousand ways, 
advanced a theory meriting much consideration. 

“ Flickers is his bodyguard,” says he. “ Grant- 
ley knows it’s in your mind to captivate him, and 
fears you’ll do it too, if you so much as have him to 
yourself. Flickers is for safety, and you can take 
my word for that.” 

I thought upon this sadly; for if this waS‘SO and 
the coward’s trick was only persevered in, I should 
be completely foiled, and that blue paper must be 
in London very soon. 


I DEFY DEAR LADY GRIMSTONE. 


203 


You are wrong, Prue,” I said, rebelling against 
my better judgment. “ A soldier and a man like 
Grantley would never have such a cowardice.” 

Bab,” says he, with insolence, “ Pll bet my 
back hair on it that I’m right. The bravest man 
that ever trod will take to strange shifts when con- 
fronted with the devil. Pity Grantley, do not blame 
him.” 

Of such is the sympathy of boys! 


14 


CHAPTER XIIL 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 

The morrow was full of anxiety and incident, 
There was a skirmish with my aunt — a diversion to 
be sure, but one of peril. There was also my dis- 
trust. I was compelled to keep an unceasing eye 
on Mr. Anthony, on Mrs. Emblem, on the soldiers, 
on my Lady Grimstone, on Captain Grantley and 
the document he held, and most of all on my own 
susceptibilities. There was here plenty of material 
for mischief. The conduct of the Captain was 
abominable. Of the six troopers quartered on us, 
five were despatched at daybreak to scour the sur- 
rounding country for the rebel; the remaining one, 
the Corporal, was retained in the library to protect 
his commanding officer from the wiles of woman. 
Never a doubt that Mr. Anthony had spoken true, 
and that this prudent cowardice had struck my only 
weapon from my hand. Only one means could 
save his lordship now — the sacrifice of the poor 
young fugitive. 

I suppose it is the curse of persons of condition 
that the sword of pride swings above their heads, 
suspended tenderly on a single hair. The first 
breath of calumny brings it down. The Govern- 
204 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 205 

ment had merely to receive the paper setting forth 
what was said to be his lordship’s part in the pris- 
oner’s escape, and ignoring all other consequences, 
not the least would be the hawking of his name in 
every filthy print of Fleet Street. It would be ex- 
tremely difficult to bear. Yet bear it I must, and 
perchance his committal to the Tower, and divers 
horrid businesses, unless the lad was betrayed to his 
enemies at once. 

However, I did not consider that harsh alterna- 
tive. I could not apply it an I would. But- some- 
thing must be done, as the Captain took occasion to 
remind me. On the evening of the sixth day he 
sent this polite missive to my room. 

“Madam: — To-morrow evening the term ex- 
pires. Unless the rebel is discovered to me by the 
hour of six in the afternoon, my duty will compel 
me to acquaint His Majesty’s Government of the 
whole affair. Madam, I pray you in your own in- 
terest to consider deeply of your course, for I am 
persuaded that you have a knowledge of the rebel’s 
whereabouts. Let me remind you that the coiise- 
quences must be inevitably of great prejudice to the 
Earl, your father, if you permit this matter to pro- 
ceed. — I have. Madam, the honour to be your 
duteous, humble servant, J. Grantley.” 

Miss Prue was sitting at my tea-table when I 
read this ; and this keen observer saw me grow red 
with passion at its contents. 


206 


LADY BARBARITY. 


** From a dear friend, Fll bet a shilling,” he con- 
fided to a tea-cup. 

‘‘ Very,” says I, crumpling up the Captain’s inso- 
lence and throwing it in the grate; and added, 
“ Prue, you must excuse me for five minutes ; I 
must see that dear friend of ours, the Captain, on 
something of importance.” 

“ The Captain ! ” says he, all attention. 

I was too pre-occupied to heed him in any way 
whatever, and foolishly repaired to the library with- 
out troubling to set at rest any suspicion of the facts 
he might entertain. I found the Captain and his 
bodyguard, the Corporal, playing backgammon and 
smoking the horridest tobacco that ever did offend 
me. 

“ Your pardon, gentlemen,” says I, “ and as you 
are at such an important matter, ’twere best that I 
withdraw perhaps.” 

The Captain put his pipe down and begged me 
to be seated, while the Corporal, evidently acting 
under orders, rose, stepped to the door, but did not 
go outside. 

Sir,” I began, “ I am come to ask you again to 
revise that paper. I will not have his lordship sad- 
dled with a misdemeanour which he never did com- 
mit. ’Twas I that set the rebel free, and ’tis I that 
will abide the consequence.” 

The Captain grimly shook his head. 

“ My dear lady,” he replied, it cannot be. 
Your father is morally responsible for the crime that 
hath been wrought in his house against the King. 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 207 

You must either produce me the prisoner to-mor- 
row by the hour of six, or submit his lordship to 
the severe alternative.” 

“ Captain, this is an absurdity,” says I, tartly; 
“ and to be brief, sir, your conversation seems ex- 
tremely like a simpleton’s. Produce you the pris- 
oner? Ods my life, what a folly do you talk! 
Ask me to produce you the devil, and I shall pro- 
duce him just as easily.” 

“ Not a doubt about it,” says the Captain, laugh- 
ing at the anger in my eyes. 

Before I could retort upon him, my attention 
was distracted by the sudden opening of the door. 
To my horror I saw the apparition of the rebel. 
His mouth was stern, and there was a high sparkle 
in his eyes. One glance and I read all the contents 
of his mind. By some strange means he had dis- 
covered the dilemma I was in, and to spare me the 
inconvenience that I suffered had come to deliver 
his person up to justice. His purpose was distinct- 
ly written in his face. 

It was a terrible instant, and only a wonderful 
decision could stave off fatality. I sprang up and 
sailed towards him ere he could speak the word 
that would betray him, and pushed him by main 
force past the Corporal, and over the threshold of 
the door. 

“ Oh, Prue, you prying rogue ! ” I cried, laugh- 
ing with a heartiness that was intended to be 
heard. You spy, you suspicious wretch, you are 
dying I can see, to get an inkling of this matter; 


2C8 


LADY BARBARITY. 


but I’ll Stake my soul that you do not overhear a 
word.” 

I had no sooner expelled him from the room 
with this peremptory mirth, than I whispered 
feverishly in his ear: 

“ For God’s sake do not do it now! Go back to 
my room, and I will follow and talk the matter 
over.” 

Thereupon I boldly rejoined the Captain and 
the Corporal, and slapped the library door in the 
face of the prisoner standing on the mat. The sus- 
picions I had aroused by a course so strange must 
be soothed at any cost. Unlimited lying came 
greatly to my aid. I ordered the puzzled Corporal 
to turn the key upon the lady. 

“ She is just burning with curiosity,” I laughed; 
but I’ll take care that she shall not satisfy it.” 

’Twas a mercy that the Captain’s leg was in 
such a posture, that his back was to the door, and 
though he must have heard sounds of a woman’s 
entrance, and that I was in a flutter of one kind 
or another, and had been excited to strange steps, 
he could not possibly have seen Miss Prue, and hap- 
pily his injury forbade him turning round to look. 
Again, the Corporal was of such a primitive intel- 
ligence that he never suspected anything at all. 
Finding the Captain as resolute as ever, I took an 
early chance to quit the arbitrary wretch, and 
sought the rebel. 

His appearance in the library was simple to ex- 
plain. He had got a hint of my predicament, and 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 209 

to relieve me was ready to sacrifice himself. He 
was in my room awaiting me. Entering, I closed 
the door, turned the key and put it in my pocket. 

“ Would you spoil all, then?” I bitterly began. 

“ You have told lies,” says he in his coarse 
fashion. 

“ For you,” says I, swiftly. 

My look caused the deepest tawny to creep into 
his face. 

“ You swore upon your oath,” says he, “ that 
to harbour me would place you in no danger. 
Madam, you have lied.” 

“ I shall be glad for you to prove that,” I an- 
swered languidly. 

I should have been inclined to enjoy his anger 
and his insolence I think, had there not been a note 
of warning in his tone that frightened me. That 
he had made his mind up on this point was very 
plain. 

“ I will prove it in three words,” says he. “ First 
I read the paper you crumpled up and cast into the 
grate. My other information I have pulled out of 
Mrs. Polly Emblem.” 

“Oh, the wretched wench!” cries I, and sum- 
moned her from my dressing-room immediately. 

The fool came as limp as rags, and cowered 
from my anger pitifully. 

“ If you please, your la’ship,” she whimpered, 
“ ’a fairly tore it from my breast. I could not 
help myself, my lady — ’deed I couldn’t — that’s a 
fact.” 


210 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ You silly trout, IVe a mind to boil you, and 
that’s another fact. But no, you half-wit, it were 
better to dismiss you on this instant. Off, you slut, 
and pack your boxes and do not offend me with 
your face another hour.” 

“ Oh, please, please, my lady,” sobbed the sim- 
pleton falling on her knees. 

“ Enough of this Bab,” says Miss Prue, sternly, 
with a fine indignation in her eyes. “ Leave the 
poor creature be. She says she couldn’t help her- 
self, and I’m here to vouch it. I fetched it out of 
her like anything, for she’s but a woman after all. 
Bab, drop it; do you hear me?” 

The rogue slapped his hand upon the table with 
the grandeur of an emperor. Thereupon I rated 
her the more soundly for her fault. The miserable 
Emblem first looked at her champion, and then at 
me in the most piteous manner. Thereat Miss 
Prue’s countenance became a blaze of anger. 

“ Damn it, Bab,” says she, “ if you only were a 
man ! ” 

In the effort to contain her wrath she went 
striding up and down the room. Suddenly she 
dealt a vicious kick at a Sheraton what-not, inlaid 
with pearl, that was worth as much as the blood- 
money on her head, brought it down in pieces, and 
smashed to atoms a priceless china vase. Then she 
turned on me. 

“ Bab, you are a perfect brute ! ” and then said 
to Emblem, softly, “ Poor wench! But don’t you 
fret, my dear, for I will see you are not hurt.” 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 211 


Having delivered his mind thus freely, he strode 
to the door and tried it. 

“ No, boy, you don’t,” says I, and ran to the 
door the other side of the chamber that led into 
my dressing-room. Hastily I secured that also, 
and took the custody of the key. 

“ Now sit down,” I did command him; “ for I 
am to have a talk with you, my friend.” 

“ I hope you will enjoy it,” he said, “ as it is to 
be the last.” 

“ Surely,” says I, “ you cannot have the folly 
to be resolute in this? Would you yield your 
life up for a whim? Doth not your very soul 
turn dark at the thought of death — and such a 
death?” 

I shivered as I spoke, and the lad turned paler. 

“ No,” says he, “ that is — at least,” he dropped 
his tone, “ I do not think about it.” 

“ You will have to do,” I answered, with the 
slow unction of a priest. And you so full of lusty 
youth. Do I not see health sparkling in your eyes? 
The world must be lovely to you, I am certain. 
Your heart is fed on sunshine, and the singing of 
the birds is the only sound you hear. And are 
there no ambitions in you? Have you never dreamt 
of glory?” 

He turned still paler at this speech, and a sort 
of grim joy took hold of me when I saw how my un- 
accustomed gravity was sinking in his mind. 

'' But you ? ” he said. 

“ I am not to be regarded. I have less to lose 


212 


LADY BARBARITY. 


than you. Life itself in your case; in mine only a 
new story for the town.” 

“ Do you forget that they can attaint you of 
high treason?” he replied. “And that would 
mean a long imprisonment, and you would find it 
a tedious and very weary thing. I know, for I have 
tried it.” 

“High treason — imprisonment!” says I; 
“ these are bogies for a child. Politics are wonder- 
ful affairs, but if they can clap Bab Gossiter in the 
‘ Jug ’ and diet her on bad bread and dirty water, let 
’em do it, boy, by every means, and Pll admire ’em 
for it.” 

“But if they threaten others?” he replied. 
“ For instance, your papa, the Earl.” 

“Ho, ho, ho!” I laughed; but in my breast 
there was no levity. “ A peer of the realm! ” 

“ He is not to blame for being that,” he an- 
swered, slyly, “ and they will not the less respect 
him for it I am sure. And what of Derwentwater, 
Kenmare, Nithsdale in the late rebellion?” 

Being properly hipped on this, I tried new tac- 
tics. 

“ Ah, I see,” says I, “ you wish to play at Hero, 
do you? Want a pretext to make the world ring 
by your devotion to a lady’s little finger. A truce, 
boy, to these palpable devices.” 

He coloured high. Ridicule is the sovereign 
remedy for poetic notions in the young. He merely 
sniffed my black draught, however, and flung it 
from him. 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 213 

“ Very shrewd of you,” says he, “ but I never 
was afraid of being laughed at.” 

I turned to Emblem with a frank amazement. 

“ Go you for a bodkin, girl, and I will prick him 
with it, for I would fain discover if this child of ours 
is actually made of blood and flesh. Not afraid of 
being laughed at! ” 

Straight I fell into a peal to prove how mon- 
strously he lied. He chewed his lip, and struggled 
to cover up his very evident vexation. 

“ Sneer,” says he, with anger darting from his 
eyes, “ but my determination’s taken. A week ago 
I swore that a single hair of my Lady Barbara 
should not suffer for her mercy. And when I make 
an oath I keep one, whatever others do.” 

He rose. A glance assured me that he was in 
an ugly mood of heroism. He held his hand out 
for the key. I glanced into his face, saw all the 
muscles in it tight, and his mouth locked in a si- 
lence that seemed to render the gravest word ridicu- 
lous. 

“ Oh come,” I cries, “ enough of claptrap ! 
Have I done all this to be thwarted by a child? Do 
you not see if you persevere in this proud folly that 
the Captain triumphs? And I, a victorious rebel, 
should find it easier far to endure the Tower than 
the humiliations of defeat.” 

“ Alas I these palpable devices,” he sighed. 
“ But it’s the key I want, not trickeries.” 

Again I had a taste of my impotence with him. 
Hitherto my lightest whim was a law for the great- 


214 


LADY BARBARITY. 


est or the meanest; this moment, though, a very 
beggar defied my imperious command. Nor would 
he budge from his perverseness. Pretty soon his 
intolerable behaviour made my anger rise. It was 
increased when I remembered his utter dependence 
and his low condition. And yet I took a kind of 
admiration of him too. He was so bold, so con- 
tradictory, so brazenly impertinent withal, that I be- 
gan to feel there was more in his sex than I had 
suspected. 

“ Child,” says I, “ I am dreadfully enraged with 
you and with your ways, but,” I added, musingly, 
while I read the decision in his face, “ do you know 
I have half a mind to love you for them.” 

“ Pray don’t,” says he, uneasily. 

“ I have, though. I think you’ll make the pret- 
tiest man that ever was. You are not a bit accord- 
ing to the pattern. You appear to even have a will, 
a very unusual circumstance in anything that’s mas- 
culine. Child,” I says, “ do you know that I have 
half a mind to make a husband of you? I like you, 
my lad. You are headstrong, but I think you are 
a charming boy.” 

I patted him upon the shoulder with an air of 
high approval. He knit his teeth, and cried in a 
crimson heat: 

“ Confound you, woman, I am not your pussy- 
cat, nor your King Charles’ spaniel.” 

“No,” says I; “and that is why I like you. 
You are so unstrokable.” 

“ The key,” says he. 


I DISPLAY- MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 215 

“ Understand me, sir,” says I, severely. “ If I 
am ever at all tender to a person, I become very 
much his friend and delight to serve him. Now 
I can best serve you by denying you this key. 
And while we are on this argument I should be 
glad to ask you whether there is anything you owe 
me? ” 

“ My life,” he answered, promptly. 

“Very well,” says I; “and are you to be so 
thankless as to throw away that which I have given 
you? ” 

“ Oh well,” says he, nervously, and dropped the 
boldness of his look, “ if that is how you put it — 
but, madam, for the world I would not have your 
name imperilled or your father’s. Why, ’tis grati- 
tude that makes me so contumacious in this mat- 
ter.” 

“ Now,” says I, “ here’s something I should like 
you to reflect upon. I refuse most absolutely to 
yield up your person to the State. And should you 
do this of your own accord I will not forgive you 
for it ; no, sir, I will not ! And I will not even go to 
Tyburn to see how prettily you hang. And my 
vanity will sicken horribly. For in every enter- 
prise I crave to be victorious, and I support a whip- 
ping as badly as you do a thoroughly polite be- 
haviour.” 

“ But the paper going south,” he put in, dog- 
gedly. 

“ Yes, I’ve thought of that, and it hath occurred 
to me that if your prayers. Emblem’s wit, and my 


2I6 


LADY BARBARITY. 


resources cannot play a pretty little trick upon the 
Captain, the Captain’s very wise.” 

’Twas then Miss Prue did prick her ears up. 

“Trick!” says she, “anything daring? Aught 
with a spice about it? Now, Bab, let’s have it! ” 

“ It is my intention to kidnap my good friend 
Corporal Flickers,” I replied. 

“ Kidnap Corporal Flickers,” cries he, in a voice 
of pregnant admiration. “ Why, Bab, your heart is 
big enough for five. Bravo ! ” 

“ At six o’clock to-morrow evening he is to take 
that paper, ride to York, and catch the London 
mail,” says I. “ But he will not get beyond our 
gatehouse, for everything is to be most excellently 
planned.” 

“ And you will perhaps be wanting my assist- 
ance,” says he, keenly. 

“ Very probable indeed,” says I to pacify him 
somewhat, though I did not intend to risk his safety 
in the matter. 

Thus by fair words, devices, and appeals he was 
prevailed upon to sit in peace, and for the present 
to let things pursue their courses. Much as I re- 
joiced in this, however, I was angry with myself 
for being such a tender sort of fool. For the mo- 
ment, though, a more instant matter filled my 
thoughts. Such a nicety of performance was re- 
quired in this new affair that fearing the least mis- 
carriage, I directed my personal attention to it, 
Habiting myself for an evening stroll, I stepped 
into the heavy bitter night, winter though it was, 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 217 

went softly down the drive, and demanded admit- 
tance at the gate-house door. 

William Goodman was the keeper and lived 
there, a widower, with John, his son, a sturdy six- 
foot yokel. They made a pair whom Heaven might 
have created especially for my business. They sat 
in the gatehouse kitchen at a meal of beef and ale. 
William Goodman — sly, ancient, lean — was a man 
of sense, and proved it by being faithful as a dog to 
the family he had served for forty years. He had 
only been once before the Justices, and the occasion 
was when he had cracked the sconce of a man who 
had contumeliously hinted within William’s hearing 
that my Lord of Long Acre was not so handsome a 
nobleman as the Duke of Marlborough. After they 
had received me with the most horrible embarrass- 
ment, and Goodman, the younger, had had the mis- 
fortune to turn a jug of ale into his lap, I sat down 
and explained my mission as succinctly as I could. 

“ Have you a coal-hole under this kitchen?” I 
began. 

“ Yes, my lady,” said the elder. 

Exactly as I thought,” says 1. “ And sup- 

pose a man was put into it; could he very well get 
out?” 

Depends upon the man, your ladyship,” says 
the elder, leering like a fox. 

One who did not happen to be a friend of the 
family,” says I, mightily enjoying William Good- 
man’s face. 

‘‘ He might o’ course,” says he, with his natural 


2I8 


LADY BARBARITY. 


caution, “ and, o’ course, he mightn’t; but, my lady, 
if I was betting on it, I should put my money on he 
mightn’t.” 

“ Well, Goodman,” says I, I should like you to 
understand that I have put my money on ‘ he 
mightn’t.’ Now there is a certain person to be put 
into that coal-hole, and out he must not come until 
I send the order. And let me give you a few par- 
ticulars.” 

These were brief and simple. Mr. Flickers must 
be lured into the gatehouse, sprung upon, taken by 
surprise, laid in the cellar, and kept there both tight 
and privy at my pleasure; while I should be pleased 
if it could be contrived that a blue paper passed 
from his possession to my own. 

“And no unnecessary violence, Goodman. I 
would not have unnecessary violence for the world. 
But do you think all this is to be done? ” 

“ Your ladyship can call it done already,” Good- 
man answered. “ And what was it, my lady, you 
thought he called his lordship? ” 

“ Doddering old something, I believe,” says I ; 
“ cannot take a Bible oath on the exact text of it, 
but ‘ doddering old something ’ is the very synonym 
of what he said.” 

“ When the pore man falls, I hope as ’ow he 
won’t fall on his head,” says WiHiam, piously, but 
with a high significance. 

“Now, no unnecessary violence,” I said; “but 
I’ll take my life that ' dodder ’ is the word he used.” 

There was here a question as to the disposal of 


I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES. 219 

his horse. It was resolved to convey it to the High 
Farm, some miles up the moor, the same evening 
and hold it there in secret till the time was by for 
the Corporal’s release. And I had such a high re- 
gard for Goodman and his son that I did not hesi- 
tate to think them the equals of their word. Where- 
fore I went home to dress in a cheerful mood, and 
passed a lively evening with my aunt, his lordship, 
and Miss Prue. 

My aunt put me quite remarkably in mind of a 
ferret held up by the throat. The creature was pre- 
pared to bite on the first occasion, only the season 
was not yet, for to attempt to do so now was to run 
the risk of having the life choked out of it. 

“ Aunt,” says I, as we sat at supper, “ my dearest 
Prue tells me she must leave us in a day or two.” 

“ Niece,” says my aunt, politely, “ I shall be 
grieved indeed to forego her charming company.” 

But here the dowager’s steely smile shone out 
and caught my eye, and — well, I wished it had not 
done so. 


15 


CHAPTER XIV. 


IN WHICH THE CAPTAIN’s WIT BECOMES A 
RIVAL OF MY OWN. 

On the fateful morrow the frost still held, and 
gave no sign of yielding. The Doctor rode over 
towards noon to attend the Captain’s leg. When 
he left the library I took his professional opinion 
on both that member and its owner. 

“ Doing nicely, very nicely,” says the Doctor. 
“ Nor are the injuries as serious as we did at first 
suppose.” 

“We shall have him about on crutches in a day 
or two, perhaps?” says I, making a wry face. 

“ Not this fortnight,” says the Doctor, “ nay, not 
this three weeks. This morning now he tried to 
alter the position of his leg, but it was so stiff and 
gave the poor man such an excruciating pain that 
he desisted the instant he began.” 

“ I was trusting. Doctor,” I replied, “ that the 
Captain would have his heels up for at least a month. 
A man of his activity would benefit by rest.” 

“ Well, my dear lady, let us think about it,” says 
the Doctor. 

“ And I believe, sir,” says I, insinuatingly, “ that 
you had better stay to dinner while you do.” 

220 


THE CAPTAIN’S WIT A RIVAL OF MY OWN. 221 

I never remember a day that took longer to con- 
sume the sun’s light, or a night more tardy to ar- 
rive. At five p.m. the Captain scrawled the infor- 
mation: “ In an hour, madam, unless a particular 
circumstance prevents it, my report must be dis- 
patched.” And I was grateful to the Captain’s air 
of mystery for causing me to laugh so. “ Unless a 
particular circumstance prevents it.” A little after 
six Emblem bore me the news that the Corporal 
was mounted and away. As Goodman was to bring 
me the result as soon as one had been arrived at, I 
awaited him in privacy, and was so nervous and 
excited, too, that I preferred to have my supper 
served there, instead of wearing the mask of my 
habitual indifference, and sitting down with the 
family as usual. 

Seven struck, but no Goodman came. A quar- 
ter past, and I began to speculate upon miscar- 
riages. But presently, to my relief, I caught the 
sound of heavy boots ascending, and on his knock I 
invited Goodman to come in. 

‘‘Well?” says I. 

“ Under lock and key, your ladyship,” says 
Goodman. “ ’A kicked a bit, ’a swore a bit, when 
we took him from behind; but we dropped him in, 
and slipped the bolt and turned the key; his ’oss has 
been taken to the farm, and I left John, my son, a 
sittin’ afore the cellar door a readin’ in The Courier.” 

“ No unnecessary violence, I hope,” says I. 

“ Not a bit, my lady. But it’s a mercy that there 
weren’t. He turned rampageous like; but John, 


222 


LADY BARBARITY. 


my son, had got him by the muffler, and my knee 
was a kneelin’ in the middle of his shirt. We 
dropped him in the hole, simple an’ easy as a child. 
He might ’a fell upon his nose, but I judge from the 
crackin’ sort o’ sound he made that it liker was his 
head. But he’ll take no hurt, my lady; no, not he, 
for that Corp’ral’s the toughest tooth that ever 
chewed up bull-beef.” 

“ And did you abstract the paper? ” I inquired. 

“ Here it is,” says he, and gave it to me with a 
proud appearance. 

I dismissed the honest fellow with a purse and a 
few compliments on his exceptional ability, which 
even the best of men are greedy to receive ; and gave 
him some instructions touching their captive’s en- 
tertainment. You may take it that I never was 
more complacent in any battle than in the signal 
victory my arms had achieved in this. The Cap- 
tain’s wit might be considerable, but it was indeed 
a satisfaction to hold the proof that my own re- 
sources were, after all, despite my foe’s unscrupu- 
losity and keenness, good enough to thwart him. 
His emissary, his special messenger, his wretched 
tool, was under lock and key; the dread instrument 
he had so diligently waved above my head, and 
had disturbed my dreams with, had not yet reached 
the Government, but lay upon my writing-table, a 
prisoner of war. ’Twas a very triumph. I picked 
up this red-sealed horror and brandished it before 
the blaze. The Secretary of State, Whitehall, 
London.” I insulted that elegant inscription in 


THE CAPTAIN’S WIT A RIVAL OF MY OWN. 223 

divers ways, but ere I bestowed upon it the crown- 
ing indignity of all, its committal to the flames, 
the whim seized me to read its precious contents 
once again. Tearing off the cover, I drew forth 
four precisely folded sheets of foolscap. But di- 
rectly afterwards, I think a feather might have felled 
me. There was not a word of writing on theml 

What could be the meaning? The packet had 
been sealed implicitly with a great array of wax; 
had been addressed in a large, fair hand to the Sec- 
retary of State; had been ravished from the custody 
of Flickers, yet here it was, blanker than my hand. 

I was wholly staggered. Presently I plagued 
my wits for explanations, but no matter how dili- 
gent my mind was it could not override the fact that 
the letter was empty. Later I took counsel of Mrs. 
Emblem, but she could merely stare and wag her 
silly head. On her suggestion, however, I resum- 
moned William Goodman. He swore an oath that 
this was the only document on the person of the 
Corporal. When I pressed him on the point he 
reluctantly admitted that as they barred the door 
upon the prisoner after the rape of the packet, he 
called out to them to this, or similar, effect: 

“ These dirty doings is all that ladyship o' yours. 
I know; but harkee! just you tell that brazen jade 
o’ yours the Captain’s not a fool, the Captain’s not, 
but smart, downright smart, my boys, and laughs 
at such as her. And tell her she’s welcome to the 
paper, for it’s not a bit o’ use to her, nor to me, nor 
to the Captain, and she’s welcome to chew it to 


224 


LADY BARBARITY. 


her supper if she likes; and you can tell her, boys, 
that the Captain’s laughing at her in his sleeve.” 

Goodman then withdrew. Turning on Emblem 
fiercely when he had done so, I cried out in the very 
extremity of rage: 

“ Oh, the deep devil! Oh, the cunning, foxey 
fiend! But, remark me, girl, d’ye hear? I say, re- 
mark me. I’ll be revenged upon that Captain as 
I’m a female. I’m resolved upon it. I’ll be revenged. 
Ha, thou ancient enemy. I’ll have thee yet, and then 
I’ll twist thee. Ha! I see thee squirming like a liz- 
ard in the sun. Thou belly-wriggling snake. I’ll 
pay thee for it. Eve was not my early mamma else! 
I’ll correct thee of these Eden tricks, thou worm, 
thou abominable night-bite! ” 

It was the pains of disappointment, combined 
with the keen thought that, after all, the Captain 
had occasion for his mockery that whipt me to 
this transport. The descent from supposition to 
hard fact was, indeed, most cruel. My pretty 
schemes, that had been designed to assist young 
Anthony and show the crafty soldier in a foolish 
light, where were they now? And the Captain’ 
sitting calmly down and laughing to himself at my 
predicament! Mrs. Polly Emblem had wisely fled 
the chamber, else I would not have answered for 
her at that instant. 

An hour passed, and I had pulled all the curls 
out of my hair, and had washed half the powder 
from my face with weeping, when the door was 
opened and • Mr. Anthony appeared. He looked 


THE CAPTAIN’S WIT A RIVAL OF MY OWN. 225 

at me steadily a minute, a deal of criticism in his 
eye. 

** Why, Bab,” he cries, “ what in the prophet’s 
name’s upon you? ’Tis a new role, I see. What in 
the name of mercy is the part? Are you Niobe 
mourning for her young, or a pale Jocasta^ or a 
drunken baggage that goes too often to the ‘ Jug? ’ ” 

“ Out, rogue,” says I, “ or I will put you out.” 

“ I see you have already put yourself out,” says 
he. “ But what in conscience is the matter? ” 

“ Out, rogue,” I repeated. “ I will not have 
your horrid sex intruding on my presence — 
wretched, crafty, undermining creatures!” 

“Faith!” says he, “I’ve always said it. 
“ Wretched, puling, prying rogues. Here, Bab, 
I’ll just unslip these petticoats and will resume the 
breeches of a man.” 

“ Mention that word again and I’ll beat you to a 
purpose, you insolent slip of beggary.” 

“ Go on, sweet,” says he, taking his seat calmly 
by the fire. “ I like it. Your beauty is most mon- 
strous when your eyes blaze. Rat me, if you don’t 
look an accidental angel, darling.” 

Now, as this audacious rebel sat there laughing 
quietly in true enjoyment of my rage, I judged it 
better to restrain it if I could, and tell him of the 
case. He heard me out with patience, approved 
heartily of my trick, paid me a compliment on the 
unscrupulosity of its character, swore I was a cun- 
ning one, and so forth; but when I showed him the 
clean paper with never a written word upon it, he 


226 


LADY BARBARITY. 


cried: That beats me!” and grew as thoughtful 
as an owl. 

“ Sir Sapience,” says I, “ I should value your 
opinion.” 

“ Witchcraft, as Tm a Christian man,” says he. 
“ But that Captain is — well, that Captain is ” 

“ He is, indeed,” says I, with a significance not 
to be conveyed by a mere adjective or noun. 

For an hour or more we broke our minds upon 
this problem. It was the deepest mystery, and of 
that provoking kind that makes one unhappy till 
one has solved it. As it would not profit us to keep 
the Corporal in durance, I judged it right to take 
measures to release him. But it was certain that as 
soon as he was at large my guilt would be published 
to his officer. Therefore I took boldness for my 
course, and stepped down straightway to the Cap- 
tain. I carried the blue papers and the mutilated 
seal with me. 

My enemy was alone. He received me with the 
courtesy that never failed him, while I, with the 
consideration that was habitual to me, asked politely 
of his leg. 

“ Captain,” I decisively began, “ an accident of a 
rather serious sort hath happened to that emis- 
sary of yours.” 

“ My soul,” cried the Captain, anxiously, “ is 
that so? Pray tell me of it, madam.” 

“ I will strike a bargain first,” says I, coolly, and 
cast the papers down before his eyes. 

I think I never saw a man so taken. 


THE CAPTAIN’S WIT A RIVAL OF MY OWN. 227 

Ods wounds ! ” he cries, how came these in 
your custody? ” 

‘‘ An accident hath occurred to that emissary of 
yours,” I repeated, and smiled upon his urgent face, 
“ and you shall hear the details of it on condition 
that you do confess why this packet is a bogus. I 
can assure you. Captain, that I am burning to learn 
the reason for this make-believe.” 

He tried to hedge at this, and get news of the 
Corporal out of me without giving me the secret 
that I so desired. But if he considered I was 
a child in these affairs to be evaded lightly he was 
early undeceived. 

“ Not a word, not a hint, sir,” I says, “ until you 
have told me why you have furnished the Govern- 
ment with such a short account. And I am per- 
suaded, sir, that that Corporal of yours is in the 
least enviable plight.” 

My reluctant enemy fenced with me a long half 
hour, but I was so tenacious of my course, and par- 
ried him with such an ease, that in the end I forced 
him to desist. 

“ Very well,” he said, I’ll tell you, madam. 
The fact is I have been trying to intimidate you. 
There has been a conspiracy between his lordship 
and myself to frighten you into a betrayal of the 
prisoner. From the first I have been convinced 
that you could put your hand upon that rebel if 
you cared, and, my dear lady, it may please you now 
to know that up to this instant I have not budged 
one point from that opinion. I am certain that if 


228 


LADY BARBARITY. 


you chose you could deliver him up to us to-night. 
Now we let you read the particular narrative that 
held my lord responsible, and were at pains to cause 
you to believe that it was going to the Govern- 
ment for the most obvious of reasons. And as you 
are aware, we have even thought fit to prolong the 
farce by sending Flickers southward with a bogus 
packet.” 

“ This is very fine and pat,” says I, and sounds 
like a peroration; but under your favour, sir, I 
should be glad to examine you upon it. Will you 
tell me, sir, on whom the blame will fall? If it’s not 
to be on me, and not to be upon his lordship, who 
is going to suffer?” 

“ Yours to command, James Grantley,” the 
Captain answered, with a grave and happy dignity 
that sat upon him charmingly, I thought. Does 
your ladyship suppose that I am a snivel or a cur? 
Hath your ladyship formed so kind a judgment 
of my character as to hold me capable of allowing 
my friends to suffer rather than myself.” 

This vindication of himself made him appear so 
handsome and so lofty, that I felt that this deep 
enemy of mine had no right to present so excellent 
a figure. Twas palpable, besides, that he could 
out-manoeuvre me in every way, and was therefore 
a person to be hated. 

.“Well, Captain,” says I, reproachfully, “ I trust 
you do repent of the fever you have thrown me in; 
of the sleepless nights you’ve given me: of the vis- 
ions of the Tower with which I have been beset.” 


THE CAPTAIN’S WIT A RIVAL OF MY OWN. 229 

“ Evildoers,” says he, sternly, “ must command 
no sympathy.” 

“ Tis a hard name, sir,” I says. 

“ Truth, madam, is not a courtier.” 

“Ah, no!” I sighed, and added insinuating- 
ly, “ but I have never read the history of the ill- 
fated Mary of Scotland without costing myself a 
tear.” 

“ Had I been the executioner,” says the Cap- 
tain, grimly, “ there had been no bungling at the 
lopping of her lovely, wicked head.” 

“ My dear Captain, you are perfectly convinced 
of that?” And I searched the harsh man terribly 
with my eyes. 

He lowered his own a point, and coughed to 
cover his confusion. I had now to tell the Captain 
of the Corporal’s misfortune. While in the act of 
doing this, I kept a lookout for his anger, but ex- 
cept for the most delicate little smile that seemed 
to go crawling round his jaw, his face was as simple 
and inscrutable as ever. 

“ I think, madam,” says he, “ that I should praise 
the address you have displayed. For the second 
time you have outwitted his Majesty the King. 
But, pray, madam, be careful of the third. The 
third time is generally crucial.” 

“ Do I discover a warning or a threat in this, 
sir?” I pleasantly inquired. 

“ Only the expression of an honest admiration,” 
says the Captain, whose kind smile on this oc- 
casion appeared to be dancing round his teeth. 


230 


LADY BARBARITY. 


The Corporal was released that evening. I re- 
gret that this honest man’s opinion of my conduct 
in this case is not preserved among my archives. 
I feel sure that had I been able to supply it, it would 
have won the approbation of the gentle reader. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 

I AM now come to some grave adventures. 
Even at the remote hour at which I here retail them, 
I hardly know whether to shudder or to smile, so 
whimsical they were, yet so fraught with conse- 
quences of the gravest sort. Indeed, their memory 
seems a quaint mingling of laughter and dismay. 
There is, I think, scarcely an event in life that can- 
not be made food for ridicule by the lightly-minded. 
In that category I count one, my kind friends tell 
me, but of the strange duel that was fought at which 
I presided in my person, of the conflict of wills and 
passions that befel, of the hopes, the fears, the plot- 
tings, the contrivings, the general foxiness of every- 
one, but most of all of me ; the stern contentions that 
appeared to some of us to turn the whole world 
topsy-turvy, I could not at the time decide whether 
to grin or groan at. And faith ! even at this date, I 
am not come to a decision. 

The very night of the Corporal's detention and 
release was the date of the first of these important 
matters. The hour was midnight, or rather more, 
when I got into bed. The day with me had been so 

231 


232 


LADY BARBARITY. 


arduous that no sooner did my head meet the pillow 
than I was asleep. I was aware of nothing till con- 
sciousness was restored to me all at once, and I 
found myself sitting up in the sheets and listening 
to strange sounds. It was very dark, and the wind 
outside still seemed to be crying with a night voice ; 
but some unprecedented thing had surely taken 
place, else I should not have thus awoke to find all 
my senses strained and tense with apprehension. 
Twas a cold enough sensation to discover oneself 
sitting thus, with the darkness and silence of death 
enveloping the chamber. I was in the act of re- 
settling myself snugly for repose, when the cause 
of my awakening became apparent. Several muf- 
fled but heavy footfalls I heard just the hither side 
the curtains of my bed, and while I was fearfully 
speculating upon the nature of these sounds, for it 
V as an eerie hour, I caught a noise as of the soft- 
closing of my chamber door. At first the horrid, 
quiet gloom, and the mystery of it all made a cow- 
ard of me, and I drew the blankets convulsively 
about my head, and sought to subdue the ticking of 
my heart. But hearing them repeated in the cor- 
ridor outside, curiosity managed to suppress my 
fears, and I stole from my bed to satisfy it. Open- 
ing the door with the tenderest care, I peeped cau- 
tiously across the threshold. The landing window 
being uncurtained, the long corridor leading to the 
stairs was sensibly lighter than my room. The 
cause of the alarm was immediately made plain. 
A dim figure was creeping painfully towards the 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 233 

stairs, and dark as it was, my excited eyes were 
keen enough to identify its faint outlines and its sin- 
gular condition. Twas a man’s shape shuffling 
heavily along; one portion precariously supported 
by a stick, the other by a hand pressed against the 
wall. As soon as I discerned the details apper- 
taining to him, I had read the riddle of his ap- 
parition. It was none other than my good friend 
Captain Grantley! 

I slipped back into bed with all the sleep ban- 
ished from my eyes. A remarkable trembling held 
me now in every joint. ’Twas a spasm of down- 
right, arrant fear. Yea, my good friend, Captain 
Grantley, was verily the devil! Every day served 
to reveal in new and unexpected ways the depth 
and audacity of his wit. This further manifestation 
of it almost paralysed me. ’Twas no common cun- 
ning that had taught him to conceal for what must 
have been several days the right condition of his 
knee. 

As I lay awake striving to find a means to check 
this latest move of my subtle enemy’s, several bit- 
ter facts were writ upon my mind. First, that I was 
not his match in craft, no matter how considerable 
my own; farther, that if by any chance he had 
found his way this night to the room of Prue, our 
game was lost. There was only one ray of com- 
fort that his nocturnal expedition brought. It was 
that whatever might be his suspicions in regard 
to the prisoner’s presence in the house, he held no 
evidence wherewith to confirm them, else he had 


234 


LADY BARBARITY. 


not gone night-walking to obtain it. But had this 
night-excursion given him the knowledge? Twas 
a baffling problem. However, I hoped and be- 
lieved that he had been unable to visit the room of 
Prue, since for safety’s sake I insisted that she should 
promise to lock her door. Yet in dealing with a per- 
son of the Captain’s calibre, who shall make enough 
of an allowance for the scope of his talents and activ- 
ities? Faith, I had learned to dread this subtle foe 
more utterly than anything since the bogies of my 
childhood! I do not think I should have feared 
him so could I only have killed the reluctant ad- 
miration that, in despite of myself, his skill com- 
manded. 

You may be sure that at the dawn’s appearance 
I rose earlier than my wont was ; and while I made 
my toilette I sent a message to the masquerader 
to induce him to come abroad as early as he could, 
for I felt unable to enjoy any peace of mind until I 
had let him know his latest danger. And I was the 
more eager to confide in him, inasmuch as at a crisis 
he could display a fine intelligence. 

I greeted him with this momentous question: 

“ Did you lock your chamber door last night, 
sir?” 

I did,” he answered. 

“ Then,” says I, “ you may congratulate yourself 
on your escape.” 

Therewith I retailed the remarkable experiences 
I had so lately undergone. While I did this I noted 
that his face grew very stern and ugly. 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 


235 


“ Bab,” says he at the conclusion, “ these play- 
house tricks of ours will do well to have an ending. 
This Captain man is too devilish ingenious to be 
tolerated any more. He’s too early on the perch for 
us, Bab, and that’s a fact. He must either have his 
wings clipped, else I must fly away.” 

“ The time is not yet for you to fly, my lad,” 
says I ; “ you know very well that I have decided 
to hold you here until I can have you carried privily 
to London, and then shipped straightway from 
Deptford to the Continent. But as to the clip- 
ping of the Captain’s wings, how shall you set 
about it?” 

“ There is a way, you can depend upon it,” 
he replied with a significance that startled 
me; “though to be sure ’tis not one that’s very 
gentle.” 

“ What do you mean, sir? ” says I, while a light 
came in his eyes and made them shine like me- 
teors. 

“ Well, I mean just this,” says he, “ for me to fly 
from this house to-day is certain death, as you re- 
mind me. But it is equally impossible for me to be 
here abiding now that the Captain’s so alert. ’Twill 
not be advisable for this house to hold us both an- 
other day. Therefore one of us must go; and if 
the name of that one does not happen to be Dare, 
then I think it’s Grantley.” 

“ A very pregnant and luminous piece of reason- 
ing,” says I, “ but provided it is Grantley, how are 
you going to set the man in motion? ” 

16 


236 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ You think the man will need a spur? ” says he. 

“ I do, indeed,” says I, “ and one both sharp and 
covert.” 

“ I have here the very thing,” says he. Upon 
the word he fumbled in his skirts, and presently 
produced a little leather case therefrom. Plucking 
off the top, he showed me that a small venomous 
stiletto lay twinkling in it. As you may suppose I 
took several seconds to recover my breath, then 
cried : 

“ What, you bloody-handed rogue, have you 
murder in your mind? ” 

“ Some may call it murder,” he meekly said, 
“ and some may call it sin, and as I’m not a learned 
man I shan’t dispute ’em. But the pith of the 
affair is this. If Grantley can contrive to rattle 
the first blow in among my ribs, then I shall be a 
corpse. Yet, on the other hand, if I can get the 
first home I shan’t need to strike again.” 

“ Silence, wretch ! ” I commanded him with 
sternness. “ Do you dare to talk of murder to my 
face, then? ” 

“ Some may call it murder,’^ he repeated, “ but it 
never was a name of mine. It’s a time of open war, 
you see; the rebel and the redcoat; and I’m a rebel, 
as you are aware.” 

“ Well, at the best,” says I, even if one can 
square one’s conscience, ’tis not the right English 
fashion, sir; and therefore I’ll none of it.” 

“ No,” says he, reluctantly, “ perhaps it’s not. 
And certainly an open fight would consort kinder 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 237 

with my temper; but how is one to be arranged? 
Alas! it is impossible.” 

“ Impossible or not,” says I, “ I am not the one 
to wink at murder.” 

None the less I would remind you, madam,” 
he insisted, “ that one there’ll be if once the man on 
whose behalf you are interfering can set his hands 
on me. Tyburn Tree is murder as surely as is an 
inch of steel.” 

“ I am not likely to forget it,” says I, “ but I 
propose to select a choicer instrument than the sti- 
letto wherewith to save your life.” 

But I found it easier indeed to avert than to 
perform. My interdict against murder I rigidly en- 
forced; but how to procure the advantages of that 
extreme act without paying for them bloodily 
caused me to waste hours in fruitless thought. Af- 
fairs were at a head, and something demanded to 
be done. Captain Grantley was no more the tiger 
caged. The fierce, intrepid animal had managed to 
break his prison, and now was on the prowl. Small 
doubt that he was stealthy, savage, and vindictive. 
Unless I took an immediate means to ensure the 
safety of the helpless creature cowering beneath my 
promise of protection, he would be torn limb from 
limb, and that despite my vows. And in good 
sooth things had gone so far that I felt that if by a 
mischance the poor lad should perish after all, my 
heart must perish too. 

I now come to perhaps the strangest evening 
of my life. It behoves me, therefore, to be respect- 


238 


LADY BARBARITY. 


ful of all that did occur. As I have said, supper 
was the meal when the family and any guests receiv- 
ing our hospitality were expected to assemble, that 
the evening might be spent in cheerful intercourse. 
Ever a social being, the Earl, my papa, when in 
the country, was a great stickler for this rule. 
Therefore, when the bell summoned us to the board 
on this most eventful evening, any tremors that we 
had we were compelled to lay aside, while we de- 
scended to the supper-table. As our enemy had 
made no move during the progress of the day, we 
were led to foster the opinion that, whatever his sus- 
picions, his dark errand had been barren, and that 
accordingly he lacked a positive knowledge of the 
rebel’s sanctuary in our house. 

I remember that both Miss Prue and I robed 
with particular care this evening. Miss Prue 
heightened her complexion to an almost hectic hue, 
for she reminded me that she was in a very “ kill- 
ing” humour. We dawdled into the dining-room 
with arms about the waists of one another, as is 
the fashion of dear friends. My aunt and my papa 
were there already; the usual salutations were inter- 
changed, and no circumstance suggested that aught 
beyond the common would occur. But, indeed, an 
omen thrust itself upon me a moment later when I 
noted that an extra chair was ranged against the 
table, which was also laid for five instead of four. 

“ Why, aunt,” cries I, “ who is to be our visi- 
tor? ” 

“ Patience, child,” my aunt replied, with such an 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 239 

amiable air that forthwith I suspected her of treach- 
ery. And, straight, a pang went through me, for I 
was almost sure that we had been lured into a trap 
from which it was now too late to escape. And 
even as this thought afflicted me, suspicion became 
dire fact. The door appeared to open and a com- 
motion arose the other side of the screen. A sound 
of shuffling, accompanied by a painfully slow gait, 
published to me the worst ere even the ubiquitous 
Captain hove in view. He came to the table lean- 
ing on the shoulder of a servant, and was propped 
up also by a stick. 

You can suppose that every detail of the Cap- 
tain’s mien and conduct is writ down in my mind. 
First he advanced in the most unincriminating 
manner, bowed profoundly over my aunt’s extended 
hand, accepted the kind words and congratulations 
of my lord with an air of admirable courtesy and 
pleasure, put his palm across his heart and smiled, 
and bowed to me as gracefully and deeply as his 
predicament allowed, and generally held himself 
with a sweeping ease that was sublime. Nor was I 
much behind him there. I turned to the poor mas- 
querader who was sustaining the ordeal nobly, and 
said in a full, clear tone: 

Prue, dear, permit me to present to you Cap- 
tain Grantley, of the Thirty-third, one of my oldest 
and most cherished friends.” 

Bows were exchanged by both parties with a 
gravity that would have been enjoyable had one’s 
fears been quieter. Without more ado we assumed 


240 


LADY BARBARITY. 


our chairs, and the meal began. My appetite was 
gratified with a mere pretence of eating, and even 
this Barmecidal course was begrudged it by my 
heart. Here I was sensibly the poorest actor of the 
three, for the Captain laughed, joked, drank, and 
supped with a military heartiness, while Miss Prue 
requested him to pass the salt with the demurest 
smile you ever saw. It was quite on the cards, of 
course, that the Captain was still in ignorance of 
the Honourable Prudence Canticle’s true identity, 
as her disguise really was without a shade of doubt 
ingenious. Yet, on the other hand, to accept this 
as a fact would be the height of assumption. The 
Captain was a terrible variety of man to whose 
depth it was impossible to put a limit. He was a 
master of the art of concealing what he knew. He 
had the trick of wooing one into the comfortable 
notion that he was pretty well an ignoramus, when 
he had practically taken all knowledge for his prov- 
ince. Thus, his present air of candour notwith- 
standing, I was woefully afraid. 

The conversation was unceasing. The Captain 
kept up a rattle of the delightfulest inconsequence, 
tnade jests upon his leg that actually enticed the 
dowager into a smile, and seemed most magnani- 
mously inclined to forget the injuries to his person 
and his reputation, let bygones be bygones, and par- 
don even me, the arrantest rebel that had yet to grin 
through hemp. 

Later, on retiring to the withdrawing-room, we 
had cards as usual. Going from one apartment to 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 24 1 

the Other, I was able to secure a short aside with 
Prue. 

“ Suppose,” says I, “ you now contract a head- 
ache, and retire for the evening? The less you are 
exposed the better.” 

“ Not I,” says she; “ I’ll see it through. If he 
hath already smelled me out, nought can avail me. 
If he hath not, but is lingering in doubt, he will 
take the fact of my seizing the first chance of 
escaping from his scrutiny as an important evi- 
dence, and will feed his suspicions on it.” 

I had to admit that this in the main was shrewd. 
Prue came therefore and bore a hand at cards. The 
play was continued pretty late. All things were 
amicable as could be, and gradually, as the hours 
passed, our dark suspicions of the early evening 
were considerably laid. The dowager retired at the 
sound of twelve, as was her custom. The best part 
of an hour later, growing drowsy and uncertain in 
his play, the Earl rose, gave us good-night, and 
also went to bed. 

On the withdrawal of my lord my spirits rose re- 
markably, for I judged that all our doubts were 
about to be resolved. If the Captain was still 
our dupe he would remain, of course, quiescent; 
or if he had spied our deception out it was natural 
to expect him by word or deed to betray some- 
thing of his knowledge. But he continued play- 
ing with such an imperturbable and easy mien, his 
voice remained so candid and so clear, his eye so 
open and indulgent, and his manner so frank 


242 


LADY BARBARITY. 


and unrestrained, that soon reassuring glances 
were exchanged between the masquerader and 
myself. 

For what followed I am, perhaps, to be in a 
measure blamed. Lulled into security by the con- 
duct of our enemy, to some extent I gave the rein 
to my own desires. From the first I had been win- 
ning steadily, and my appetite for play, always vig- 
orous, seemed to increase as my guineas grew. 
True, half of these gains had originally been money 
of my own, Prue having been furnished with means 
for this diversion from my purse, but the Captain 
was undoubtedly a loser. 

“There!” he cries at last, “that completes the 
second hundred. And under your leave, madam, 
’tis high time, I think, the loser called, ‘ hold, 
enough ! ’ ” 

“ Then you do not care to work your evil vein 
out, sir? ” says I. 

“ I should be only too glad to try, dear lady,” 
he replied, “ if I had not other work to do. Besides, 
you will observe that, strive as I may, I cannot 
scrape together another guinea or another bank- 
bill.” 

As a proof he fumbled with his pockets mightily. 
He exposed the linings of those in his coat, and 
playfully remarked: 

“ You see, quite empty! ” 

But how little did we divine his strategy! The 
next moment showed that this search for money 
was but a pretext; and a spasm of mingled rage and 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 243 

horror seared me when his true intention was un- 
masked. 

Suddenly, as he sat opposing Prue and me the 
other side of the little card-table, his right hand was 
shot across in the direction of my companion, and 
a pistol was exposed and rigidly presented within 
six inches of her face. 

“ Stir a muscle, Anthony Dare,” says the Cap- 
tain, “ and you’re dead.” 

I could almost feel the poor lad flinch under his 
heavy rouge. He said not a word, though, but only 
trembled and stared dumbly at the iron. 

For myself I gave one look at these enemies, 
and then rose in a tempest of rage and pity. 

“ Man,” I says, “ are you mad? Anthony Dare? 
What do you mean? ” 

“ A neat deception, an elegant deception,” says 
the Captain, “ and I give you my compliments upon 
it, madam ; but now I think it’s at an end. I’ll con- 
fess ’tis pretty enough for boozy troopers ; therefore, 
madam, again my compliments upon it.” 

My reply would have been a fury had he not 
silenced me with his glance. 

Hush, madam,” says he, “ unless you desire to 
have the house aroused. To spare you an exposure 
I have submitted to some inconvenience and run a 
certain risk by moving in the matter at this un- 
seasonable hour, when broad daylight would be 
greater to my profit. For, believe me, I am beyond 
all things anxious to serve your interests so far as 
my duty will permit.” 


244 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Or your inclination,” says I, harshly. 

“ Mr. Dare,” says the Captain to his prisoner, 
“ I would have you place both your open hands 
upon the table-cloth, for, Mr. Dare, in my opinion 
you are as skilful as they’re grown, allowing for 
your years and opportunities. Let me admit at 
once, sir, that I entertain a considerable opinion of 
you. But if, Mr. Dare, I might venture to advise 
you, I should make as little noise to-night as pos- 
sible or the reputation of her ladyship will be un- 
doubtedly in peril.” 

Twas rather like being choked with a surfeit of 
strawberries and cream, or maddened with a brook 
of silver melody to hear the Captain use this com- 
plimentary tenderness with the subtle notes of tri- 
umph ringing underneath it. And his face! His 
eyes appeared to overflow with admiration and so- 
licitude. But there was a quiet curl about his mouth 
that made him wholly hateful. The prisoner was 
the next to speak. 

“ Captain,” he said, “ I’m squarely ta’en. And 
if you will promise to spare her ladyship I’ll yield 
unreservedly. If you will not, you will have to put 
a bullet through me, for ’tis more to my taste than 
Tyburn in the cart.” 

Here, despite himself, the poor wretch shiv- 
ered. 

“ Willingly,” says the Captain, “ and that’s a 
bargain. Give me your word upon it, sir, and then 
I can put this bit of iron up.” 

Thereon the prisoner bowed in assent to his 


THE CAPTAIN TRUMPS MY TRICK. 245 

captor, who quietly replaced the pistol in his 
coat. 

“ Mr. Dare,” says the Captain with great suavity, 
“ might I suggest that you change your clothes be^ 
fore my men can note them.” 

“ On the contrary, Mr. Dare,” says I, “ I would 
suggest, for my part, that you advertise yourself 
before them in this attire. For I do not doubt that 
they will rejoice to learn what handsome fools they 
are.” 

My Lady Barbara is surely hard upon them,” 
says the Captain. “ Something should be allowed 
for her powers of deceit.” 

“ Would you insult me, sir? ” I cries, dying to 
pick a quarrel with the man. There are periods 
when one would forfeit willingly one’s figure in the 
world to have a virago’s privileges for a short five 
minutes. However, I saw full bitterly that railing 
could not avail. 

Perforce I kept my gaze from the white-faced 
prisoner. I could not endure to see the lad. Not 
that he took the matter ill. He was outwardly as 
calm as was his foe. But there was something in 
his mien that made a dreadful coward of me at a 
time when I could have wished to be most brave. 

A horrid silence presently ensued. The Captain 
had said his say already. And I had much to speak, 
but for my life I could not speak it then. As for 
the prisoner, when I stole a look at him, he was 
staring with grim eyes at Sir Peter Lely’s picture of 
my mother, hung upon the wall. But he stood 


246 


LADY BARBARITY. 


as silent as the tomb. Then it was that our enemy, 
the Captain, acted in the strangest way — but one, 
I think, that honoured both his heart and his in- 
telligence. 

“ I will withdraw,” says he, looking tenderly at 
me, “ For I fear it will be your last hour together.” 
Then looking at the prisoner, “ When you are ready, 
Mr. Dare, if you will step into the library you will 
find me at your service.” 

Saying this he rose and hobbled out upon his 
crutch. 


CHAPTER XVL 


IN WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON. 

I WAS quite joyfully startled at the Captain’s 
course. 

“Now what’s the fellow mean by this?” I 
whispered to the lad. “ Is it to give you one more 
chance while his back is turned, out of pure com- 
passion, or is he fool enough to trust you ? ” 

“ He is fool enough to trust me, madam,” says 
the lad, haughtily I thought. 

“ Very charming of him,” I admitted. “ There 
must be a deal of poetry in his soul. But come, sir! 
there is not one second to be lost. Steal upstairs 
and get your skirts off, while I find some guineas* 
for you, and letters to recommend you to the con- 
sideration of some southern friends.” 

This drew fierce looks from him, but he ex- 
changed them when he spoke for a haggard smile. 

“ Ah, madam,” he said, “ you do not under- 
stand.” 

“ I understand only too well,” I sighed. “ Ty- 
burn Tree, my lad, and an end to everything. But 
for the love of heaven, cease this babbling! Off 
with you at once, or your chance is gone for ever.” 

247 


248 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ But the Captain is fool enough to trust me, 
madam,” he repeated. 

“Then you refuse to fly?” I demanded, trem- 
bling in my eagerness. 

“ I do,” says he. 

“ Then I hope you’ll hang,” I cried ; “ yes, sim- 
pleton that you are, I hope you’ll hang.” 

However, at the mention of his certain fate, I 
was no longer mistress of myself, for I sat down 
suddenly in a very unreasonable fashion, covered 
my eyes with my hands, and allowed my tears to 
break forth in the most uncontrollable flood I’ve 
ever shed. When I desisted somewhat from this, 
and next looked up, the prisoner was at my side, 
and bending over me with a tenderness that added 
to my woe. Hardly a minute had fled since last 
I had seen his face, yet in that little time it ap- 
peared to have aged by twenty years. Great as my 
own pains were, I knew them to be equalled by his 
own, for he was plainly suffering a very bitter 
agony. 

“ Madam,” he said, with his native bluntness re- 
fined into a strange sweetness by his grief, “ would 
to God I had never known you! You make the 
thought of death terrible hard to bear.” 

“Oh!” I sobbed, with a ridiculous riot in my 
breast, “ I thought I was never in your style; I 
thought you never cared ; I thought ” 

“ You are a wonderful, brave woman,” he says, 
in a whisper, “ a wonderful brave woman.” 

One of his tears fell down upon my shoulder. 


IN WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON. 249 

Sore was I tempted to indulge myself with weeping, 
too, but knowing well that the prisoner had not a 
hope of life other than one that I might find him, 
I fought against my weakness till in a measure it 
was overcome. But the face of the prisoner was 
before me always, and again did my eyes grow dark 
and heavy with their tears. 

“ Child, do not be afraid,” I said, trying for con- 
science sake to affix on him the guilt that was my 
own. “ Be brave; the matter is not so cruel as it 
looks.” 

He did not answer, but his smile was grim. 
And it seemed wonderful to me that the faculties of 
his mind should remain so keen when Death’s 
shadow was darkening his heart. 

“ Madam,” he said gently, after a miserable si- 
lence, “ give me your hand just once in parting, and 
I shall consider that the climax to a life that never 
was unhappy. For your courage, madam, is the 
sweetest memory I have; and I mean to bear, it 
ever.” 

No, no,” I said, while my tears broke forth 
again, “ do not afflict me with farewells. They are 
more than I can suffer. Oh, my lad, I cannot let 
you go like this! My life begins and ends with 
you.” 

“ But for you, my fair, sweet lady,” he replied, 
“ I could receive death easily. But I can rejoice 
that I’ve known you, and that you have been my 
friend. And now it were better that I took my 
leave, for the longer that we are together the sharp- 


250 


LADY BARBARITY. 


er will the separation be.” I heard a half-checked 
groan escape him. Afterwards he said : “ Oh, what 
a loveliness grief hath lent you! Never did you 
look so beautiful before to-day.” 

“ Yes,” I sobbed, “ you always said you liked 
’em clinging.” 

“ Let us say good-bye,” he whispered. “ At 
least, let us have done with this.” 

“ Child, be brave,” I recommended him, with a 
depth in irony that it was well he could not fathom. 

“ I blame you for my cowardice,” he said. 

There was a quiver in his face that even he 
could not conceal. I felt almost happy when I saw 
it, for it told me that at last even the untameable 
was tamed. 

“You do not want to die?” I asked him, 
softly. 

“ No,” he stammered, “ I do not want to die.” 

“ And why do you not want to die? ” I con- 
tinued, without pity. “ There was a time, you 
know,' when you were not so troubled with this 
scruple.” 

“ Tis an unnecessary question,” he said, while 
a glance came from him that sank into my heart. 

“ Is it that you have come to love me? ” says I, 
in my monumental innocence. 

“ I — a beggar? ” 

“ Nay, sir,” says I, “ not a beggar. You lack 
his first essential, his humility. Suppose we say a 
sturdy rogue? ” 

“ A sturdy rogue, then.” 


IN WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON. 25 1 

Well, an he loves me, I can pardon the pre- 
sumption of a sturdy rogue.” 

“ You had better do so, then,” says he. 

That is, you love me, sir,” I demanded, sternly. 

By God I do! ” he cries. 

“ Which is very well,” says I, “ as, all things 
considered, sir — well, all things considered, sir — 
that is, at least, I think it’s very well. And as you 
love me, sir, I would have you steal out through the 
window of this room, creep across the park into the 
wood, and I will meet you there in half an hour with 
money, a disguise, and such like necessaries.” 

“ And my promise to the Captain, madam? ” 

“ The Captain is your enemy,” says I, “ He 
seeks to kill you.” 

He shook his head in defiance of my open anger. 

Now here was a point that I never could dis- 
tinguish. Why, in the first place, the Captain 
should have dared to trust a desperate rebel upon 
his simple word, was beyond my understanding; 
again, why, when his enemy had been fool enough 
to do so, that rebel did not profit by this credulity 
was even greater mystery. Of course I have heard 
soldiers talk about their “ honour,” and I had lately 
learnt to know that his “ honour ” was the one flaw 
in the complete armour of that worldling, my papa; 
but for my life I cannot see why a man should ex- 
tend more consideration to it than he would, as in 
this present case of young Anthony, to death itself. 
And certainly I think that there is never a woman 
of us all that, being put in his tight place, but would 
17 


252 


LADY BARBARITY. 


have stretched her word a point. Bab Gossiter 
herself would have done so, I can promise you. 

Still the prisoner was obdurate. And if he, of 
all persons, refused to connive at his own escape, 
verily his case was dark. But there was one other. 
Who knew but that after all he might relent a little 
under the fire of my eyes? The Captain had 
flinched before their powers once; perchance he 
might again. 

“ My lad,” I said, turning to the prisoner, “ wait 
here till I return. I wish to speak a few words with 
the Captain.” 

“ On my behalf? ” says he. 

“ Oh, no,” says I, promptly; for did I not know 
his disposition was peculiar? Even as I went, how- 
ever, I could see that he did not set much value 
on my word, and it was a nice question whether he 
had accepted it. 

I found the Captain sitting before the library 
fire. The blaze playing on his face showed it som- 
bre and deeply overcast with thought. When I en- 
tered alone a visible embarrassment took hold of 
him, and I believe it was because he had noted the 
red and inflamed appearance of my eyes. 

“ I am come to plead, sir,” says I, plunging at 
once into my bitter task. 

“ My dear lady, I had feared it,” he said. 

“ He is very young,” I said, “ very misguided 
probably, but a youthful error is not to be punished 
with the scaffold.” 

“ It is the law,” says he, sadly. 


IN WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON. 253 

“ Humanity is more potent than the law, sir/’ 
My tears broke forth again. 

“ And,” said the Captain, with great gentleness, 
“ Lady Barbarity at every season and in every cir- 
cumstance is always humane.” 

His voice made me shiver. There was a metal- 
lic harshness creeping out from underneath the vel- 
vet tones. His face, too, had grown dark with 
sneers and sardonic meaning. I struggled to be 
resolute, but the Fates were against me. The shad- 
ow of death was lying on my heart, and steel it as I 
might it could not forbear from trembling at the 
Captain’s words, that were as cold as doom, and 
twice as cruel. 

“ My Lady Barbarity is ever humane,” the Cap- 
tain said. “ There would be no pretext for her 
title else.” 

“ I will confess, sir,” says I, “ that I never had 
any particular compassion for fools. In my opin- 
ion, sir, it is no worse to trample on a fool than it is 
to beat a dog.” 

“ Well, madam,” says the Captain, very like a 
judge, “ that, I think, is a matter for your con- 
science. But is it not rather a flaw in policy, don’t 
you think, to come to a fool on whom you have 
trampled with a plea for mercy? ” 

“ Captain Grantley,” says I, warningly. 

You must forgive my bluntness, madam,” he 
continued, “ but I, a fool, have been compelled to 
suffer greatly at your hands. You may have for- 
gotten last year in London, and this very room but 


254 


LADY BARBARITY. 


a week ago, but I can assure you, madam, that I 
have not. I have passed through a purgatory of 
hope and jealousy, and for what reason, madam? 
Simply that, to serve your private ends, you have 
deigned to shoot a few smiles out of your eyes. 
And under your pardon, madam, I will say those 
eyes of yours are poisoned daggers that corrupt 
everything they strike. At least, I know they have 
corrupted my very soul.” 

He ended this strange speech with a groan. 
There was a still passion in him that was alarming. 
If ever a man meant mischief, surely this was he. 

“ But, sir,” I said, “ you must understand that I 
am not pleading for myself.” 

“ No, only for the man you love,” says he. 

I saw he was white to the lips. 

“ Sir,” says I, “ if this were not so nonsensical, I 
should deem it an impertinence.” 

“ It is only to saints that plain truths are in- 
offensive,” the Captain answered. 

Again and yet again I returned to the attack, 
only to discover that I had to deal with a cold man 
kindled. Here was a person not to be fired easily; 
a chance spark would not light him; but once 
ablaze and he would not cease burning until the 
whole of him was ashes. I had only to look at his 
face observantly to find proofs of the havoc I had 
caused. His eyes were bright and hollow; his 
cheeks had fallen in. Hitherto I had held these the 
signs of the mind’s anxiety at his long captivity and 
his prisoner’s escape. But had I plumbed deeper 


IN WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON. 


255 


to the sources of his malady I should have found 
that they sprang from the bitter sufferings of his 
heart. And whatever the shining qualities of this 
gentleman, I knew from the beginning that mag- 
nanimity was not among them. He had endured 
the pain that I had wantonly inflicted on him, brave- 
ly and proudly, but he had also abided his time. 
Alas, that his time was now! 

Looking at his cold eyes, and the scorn of his 
lips, I knew that he meant to punish me. There 
was not one relenting glance to give me hope. I 
do not think that I am a greater coward than my 
sisters, but somehow all at once I felt my courage 
go. This patient foe seemed too powerful and 
wary; I was but as a reed in his hands; he could 
break me now and cast me to the ground. I shall 
not describe my long, fervent pleadings with him. 
I was made to command and not to pray ; therefore, 
I believe a creature of a humbler mind would have 
borne this matter more effectively. For my every 
plea fell on a heart of stone. At last I cried out 
from the depths of desperation : “ Is there no price 
in the world that would tempt you to spare him? ” 

His answer was startling. 

“ Yes, madam, one,” he said. 

“ Name it, sir! ” I cried, springing to my feet in 
my excitement. Name it, sir, and please God it 
shall be paid ! ” 

“ Become my wife, madam. On that condition 
only do I release your lover.” 

You have seen the actors in the playhouse 


256 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Strike their attitudes, and deliver their high speeches 
with the most poignant effect. You know that you 
are pierced, riot by a natural emotion, but by art and 
a studied utterance. I had this feeling in the most 
intensified degree when my subtle enemy an- 
nounced, with wonderful seeming candour, the price 
I had to pay. Of a sudden, however, his gravity 
was exchanged for a laughter equally insincere. At 
first; I took it for the mere brutality of mockery in 
the playhouse manner, but as again and again it re- 
turned upon him, and rose to a horrible hysteria, it 
was presently borne upon me that I was not so 
much the object of his hollow mirth, as the agonised 
James Grantley. 

Despite the magnitude of his demand, I was not 
slow to answer. Though I had an instinct that this 
momentous circumstance demanded at least a day 
and a night for ponderation, I felt quite incapable of 
coolly considering it for twenty seconds. Con- 
scious of nothing beyond the blood droning in my 
brain, I replied to my enemy : 

“ Captain, I accept the conditions you have 
named.” 

Perhaps the man was not prepared for this, for 
his face grew painful in its pallor, while the fire 
burned deeper in his eyes. 

“ Madam,” says he, in a voice hardly to be en- 
dured. “ I suppose you are aware that this will 
ruin me? ” 

“ And you, sir,” I said, politely, “ that I shall be 
damned eternally?” 


IN WHICH I AM WOOED AND WON. 257 

Take a more cheerful view of it, dear lady,” he 
mockingly invited me. 

“ Captain,” says I, “ do you know that you most 
remind me of an angry wasp? You are prepared 
to destroy yourself to gratify the lust of your re- 
venge.” 

Thus with these sweet speeches was our wooing 
done! 


CHAPTER XVIL 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 

Concluding our compact in the quickest fash- 
ion, I went back to the prisoner with the news. I 
chose to tell him simply that he was a free man, 
and at liberty to go. No more; a very exact dis- 
cretion being needed to keep the arbitrary rogue 
apart from his heroic foibles. I was also careful to 
announce his freedom in a tone of bald matter-of- 
fact, as though the circumstance was the most natu- 
ral in the world. Yet my art was by no means equal 
to the work before it, as at the first word the pro- 
voking fellow turned a sceptic’s eye upon me, and 
employed his lips on a long and sustained whistle of 
amused amazement. 

“ Zooks, madam ! ” says he, laughing, “ you 
ought to succeed, you know. You possess a very 
considerable invention. But my soul, what a front 
you’ve got to bring me tales of this kind ! ” 

Cease this,” says I, with an imperious gesture. 
But go to your chamber at once and change your 
attire, whilst I indite letters commending you to the 
attention of some of my friends. Off now, ere the 
Captain repents his clemency.” 

258 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 259 

However, his incredulity was not to be overcome 
in this way, and point blank he declined to budge. 
He was good enough to frankly repeat that he did 
not believe me. And to my credit be it written, I 
retained my temper tolerably well. My natural 
disposition had, I think, a severer schooling in my 
early intercourse with this intractable youth than in 
all the rest of its career. Not without benefit, per- 
haps, but I marvelled at the time, and do so still that 
this irksome discipline should have been so equally 
supported. 

To my stern demands and repeated protests he 
had only one answer to return, and that not a whit 
politer than the one already mentioned. 

“ However, I’ll see the Captain,” says he, at 
last. 

“Then do so, and be hanged to you!” cries I, 
my temper failing. 

But immediately the hasty speech was uttered, I 
strove to recall it. Beyond all he must not hear of 
my compact with our subtle enemy, the Captain, for 
I was certain that should he do so he would not 
permit it to take effect. Yet I was unable to stay 
him in his impetuous course, and therefore followed 
on his heels to the library with the best grace I 
could summon. At critical moments I could at 
least forewarn the Captain with my frowns. 

When I appeared the prisoner was already there, 
and had opened a raking fire. 

“ Captain,” he said, with what I took to be a 
mocking gleam at me, “ her ladyship asserts that 


26 o 


LADY BARBARITY. 


you have promised her my freedom. Be good 
enough to tell me, is that so? ’’ 

“ Her ladyship is perfectly correct,” he an- 
swered, and the mocking gleam in his eye I also 
took to be directed at me. 

The prisoner paused at this and turned half 
round that he might regard our guilty faces to- 
gether. I can never say whether it was that my 
colour changed ever so slightly, whether the faintest 
shade of compunction crossed the Captain’s face, or 
whether the^ rebel was supernaturally endowed with 
wit, but suddenly his eyes were kindled with 
sparkles, and he turned almost savagely on me : 

“ Madam,” he demanded, “ what is the price that 
you are paying for this privilege? ” 

The sharp question pinned me helpless. And I 
was forced to recognise that evasion, if still expe- 
dient, was no longer possible. There was that 
power in him that tore the truth out of me, even as 
at an earlier time it had torn it out of Mrs. Emblem. 

“ I am to marry my dear friend, Captain Grant- 
ley,” I told him, coolly. 

He turned to that gentleman for a confirmation. 
It was promptly conveyed to him by means of a nod 
and a laugh. 

“ And you, sir, a subject of your King and a ser- 
vant of his cause?” says the prisoner, tauntingly. 

The Captain got up, smiling through his teeth. 

“ If, sir,” says he, “ you propose to preach a ser- 
mon on morality, I shall be glad to reach the Bible 
down.” 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 26 1 

“ Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said the rebel, suavely. 
“ As your own conduct, sir, happens to be my text, 
the Bible, of course, can contribute little to the oc- 
casion. Besides, sir, my opinion of you as a man 
can be delivered in about half a dozen words. You 
are, sir, in my opinion, a pretty, full-blooded black- 
guard, and I think, sir, that for persons of your kid- 
ney hanging is a luxury.” 

The Captain bent his head a little under these 
carefully planted blows. But he remained wonder- 
fully self-possessed and passionless. 

“ Thank you, puppy,” he replied, making a 
scarcely noticeable step the nearer to his foe, “ but I 
think that your opinion, however valuable, is not at 
all required. Therefore, puppy, I shall have to 
teach you that there are occasions when it were 
wiser to restrain it.” 

And having uttered this in an absurdly calm and 
listless fashion the Captain shot his fist out quicker 
than the eye could follow it, and ere one might 
guess what had occurred, a horrid, heavy fall made 
the room quake and set the furniture a rattling. 
Young Anthony was prone upon the carpet with a 
faint streak of blood beginning to issue from his 
neck. 

In an instant was I bending over him, and cry- 
ing in my anguish: 

“ Oh, my dear lad, you are not hurt! ” 

At first he did not speak, being partly dazed with 
the concussion of his fall, but before I could repeat 
the question, behold I he was on his feet and spring- 


262 


LADY BARBARITY. 


ing at the Captain with the ardour of a lion. His 
enemy was wary though, and prepared in every par- 
ticular for this onslaught. Armed with his crutch 
he received the charge full upon that weapon, 
with farther disastrous consequences to the youth, 
who straightway met the carpet for the second 
time. Twas then that I did intervene. I ran 
between these combatants, and dared them on 
pain of unutterable penalties, to exchange another 
blow. 

“ Confound you, Bab ! ” exclaimed the bleeding 
and breathless rebel. “ Confound you for a Spoil- 
sport! Why don’t you let me pound your gentle 
husband to a jelly! ” 

What, pound my gentle husband? ” says I, “ a 
pretty wife I’d be. I’m thinking.” 

For an instant this way of looking at the matter 
administered a check to his impetuosity, and by its 
aid I took occasion to beseech : 

“ My lad, if you care for your life at all, go while 
the door is open to you. Another blow will close 
it; aye, perhaps another word. Go, I implore 
you.” 

No,” says he, doggedly, for the finest woman 
in all England I will not go. Things have gone too 
far. Would you have me leave you at the mercy of 
this nice gentleman? Let me kill him first, and 
then we will talk about it.” 

He was quite cool now, and in full possession of 
the arrogant decision that seemed such an embel- 
lishment to his character. Therefore he stepped to 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 263 

the windows at the far end of the apartment, pulled 
aside the curtains, and looked into the night. Im- 
mediately the white moonlight fell upon the deeper 
pallor of his face. 

“ See,” says he, turning to his enemy, “ there's 
light enough outside to settle our little controversy. 
Swords or pistols, sir?” 

“ Boots,” says the Captain, amiably; “ I don't 
fight with boys; I usually kick them.” 

“ Well, sir,” says the lad, “ my situation is pecu- 
liar. I am your prisoner, and at liberty on parole, 
but I ask you as a gentleman whether it is likely 
that I shall swallow the insults of a private person! 
What is your opinion, madam?” 

This was intended for diplomacy. It was plain 
that he wished me to induce the Captain to fight, but 
the risks of that course appeared too terrible by far 
for me to seize the opportunity. 

“ Save your neck first,” was my answer, “ then 
settle your private quarrels.” 

And you, madam, are you prepared to pur- 
chase my liberty with your own? ” says he. 

“ I believe so,” says I, with an air of high in- 
difference. You foolish boy, do you think it mat- 
ters one farthing to a woman whom she marries, so 
long as she is but able to marry someone? Now be 
a good lad, doff those petticoats, wipe the blood 
from your neck where the Captain’s ring hath 
scratched you, and start for the south without an- 
other word.” 

“ No,” says he, “ for that is the very last course 


.64 


LADY BARBARITY. 


I propose to take. You shall never sacrifice your- 
self for me.” 

“Sacrifice!” cries I; “La! the complimentary 
creature. Twill be a pleasure, I can promise you. 
Why, Captain, dear, we are to have a right merry 
time together, are we not?” 

“Yes, a right merry time,” says the Captain, 
grimly. 

“ Oh, indeed,” says Mr. Anthony. “ Ah, well, I 
am glad to hear you say so. For I’ll confess that 
I’ve had my doubts about it. Only I’m thinking 
that when his Majesty grows cognisant of this he 
may seek to mar the happiness of one of you at 
least.” 

“ Depend upon it, sir,” I retorted, stoutly, “ that 
he will not hear of it.” 

I continued to be so insistent on his immediate 
flight, and at the same time my determined attitude 
was so well served by the grim passiveness of the 
Captain, that in the end compliance seemed to be 
the young rebel’s only and inevitable course. And, 
to my great relief, this was the one he ultimately 
took. 

“ Well,” he exclaimed at last, “ it’s plain that 
argument cannot avail.” 

“ Not a little bit, sir,” I cheerily agreed. 

“ Then,” says he, “ I’ll go and change these 
clothes, while you write those letters to your 
friends.” 

“ You will find your masculine attire,” I said, 
with a sly twinkle for the Captain, “ up the chimney 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 265 

in your chamber, tied up in a cloth. When the 
search was done we took them there from the ward- 
robe of my lord.” 

“ I am hoping that the soot has not penetrated 
'em,” says he, making the most comic mouth. 

“ Amen to that! ” says I; “ and now be off, sir.” 

With that dismissal he left the library for his 
sleeping chamber, whilst I, craving the due permis- 
sion of the Captain, sat down at the writing table 
before pen and paper, and set about my part of the 
transaction. 

The best portion of an hour passed in the 
scratching of the quill with intervals of perilous de- 
sultory talk. I was in the most hateful frame of 
mind. Its alternate flutterings of hope and fear 
were very irksome. The lad seemed to be playing 
fair, and yet I knew that nothing was more unrea- 
sonable to expect, of a character like his, than that 
he should be content to leave me in the lurch, when 
that very night he had had so clear an indication of 
my feelings. And yet, I reflected, the shadow of 
the scaffold is powerful indeed. Poor wretch, torn 
betwixt the vigorous animal’s love of live, and in- 
stincts of a higher kind I I weighed the matter with 
such a singular mingling of emotions, that I felt I 
should detest young Anthony if he left me to my 
fate, and yet should curse him for his folly if he 
refused his proffered freedom. During that hour 
of suspense the devil enjoyed himself, I think. Ten 
times I dismissed the matter by an energetic usage 
of the quill, yet ten times did it return upon me, with 


266 


LADY BARBARITY. 


now and then a quiet jibe of my smiling enemy’s 
thrown in to bear it company. 

After dashing off several letters in this savage 
manner, I looked up to consult the timepiece. It 
was five minutes short of three o’clock of the morn- 
ing, and I began to grow impatient for the fugitive’s 
departure. The dawn would be here all too soon, 
and with it many perils. Each instant of delay was 
begrudged him by my mind’s inquietude. Soon, 
however, I heard footsteps in the hall, but the first 
feelings of relief that these occasioned were changed 
immediately into those of profound dismay. For 
there was a sound of voices too. A second later the 
door was opened, and thereupon the sight that met 
my eyes nearly made me swoon. Two persons en- 
tered. The first was the prisoner, in his masculine 
attire; the second, sparsely clad in a shirt, breeches, 
and stockings, hurriedly put on, was of all persons 
Corporal Flickers. I can never forget the rage and 
horror I endured, while the Corporal, who appeared 
by no means wholly awake, crammed his knuckles 
into his eyes to rub out the remains of his sleep, and 
protect them against the lamp glare. At first the 
two soldiers were too amazed to say a word ; I was 
too afflicted ; and the prisoner alone seemed able to 
break the oppressive silence. 

Bab,” says he, “ you must forgive me for this, 
but you would persevere in your headlong folly, and 
I had to thwart you somehow. I could never have 
allowed you to pay the grievous price you had in- 
tended.” 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 267 

“What do you mean?” I cried. “Do not tell 
me that you have delivered yourself voluntarily into 
the hands of your enemies! ” 

He hung his head in silence before the indig- 
nation of my glance. 

“ Ingrate,” I cried, “ thus to thwart and to be- 
tray me.” 

“ The price was too great,” he said, doggedly, 
but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. Mean- 
time, Corporal Flickers had found his tongue, and 
was now engaged in giving the peculiar history of 
the capture to his commander. 

“ It’s God’s truth, sir, that that’s the rebel,” he 
began, in a tone that implied that he was trying 
hard to set all his own doubts at rest upon that 
point. Rubbing his eyes with renewed vigour, he 
repeated: “ Yes, sir, that’s ’im. I’ll take my solemn 
oath. But it’s passing funny how I took ’im. I 
was asleep in my room and a-dreamin’ of my Mary, 
when I feels a hand quite sudding like upon my arm. 
At that I cocks up my eyes, and sees a light afore 
me, and a man’s figger a-bending across my bed. 
Like blue blazes, sir, I leaps to my feet, for I sees it 
is the rebel, and I takes ’im by ’is throat. But he 
was the most accommodatin’ rebel that you ever 
saw, for he stood quiet as a mouse, and says that I 
had done exactly what he had wakened me to do, 
for he was tired of being hunted for his life, and 
would I bring him straight to you, sir. I told ’im 
I would an’ all, and I done it lively, as you can see, 
sir, for I only stayed to put my breeches and my 
18 « 


268 


LADY BARBARITY. 


shirt on. But atween you an’ me, sir, though we’re 
all assembled here, sir, and a-talking as natural as 
ninepence as it were, it won’t surprise me much, sir, 
if I wakes up in the matter of half an hour and finds 
that I’m asleep, for everything seems that outra- 
geous like that the more I think on it the less I can 
understand it. For what I asks is this : Is that the 
rebel that I see afore me or is it ’is counterfeit 
presentiment? And anyhow, sir, since that busi- 
ness o’ the woods I can’t be sure of ’im at all, sir, for 
in my opinion he’s a bit of a soopernatural as it 
were.” 

“ You are quite right. Corporal,” I interposed. 
“ He’s a supernatural fool.” 

All this time the chieftest actor in this play, the 
Captain, had not said a word beyond a little hollow 
praise of the Corporal’s sagacity and promptitude. 
Seen under the lamp his face presented the most 
ghastly and piteous appearance. False to his cause, 
false to himself, the dupe of his own passion, the 
slave of his own weakness, I began to conceive a 
great compassion for him, and a horror of my own 
callousness. As for the rebel, now that his head- 
strong folly had robbed him of his last chance of 
escape, all hope became abandoned. It was as 
much as ever I could do to prevent my anger and 
sorrow mastering my spirit and giving way to a 
flood of passionate tears. All our strivings to end 
miserably thus! It was only the severest discipline 
that could allow me to endure it defiantly. And yet 
though his own wilful act was to drag him to an 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 269 

ignominious death, I could but reverence his char- 
acter the more deeply for its natural courage. The 
wretched fellow’s audacious strength had forged yet 
another bond about my heart. 

Presently the Captain dismissed the Corporal, 
and thereby held himself responsible for his pris- 
oner’s safe keeping. 

“ I can also bid you good-night, madam, or, 
rather, good-morning,” the Captain says. “ The 
day has been most arduous for you, and I am sure 
you need some recuperation.” 

“ You are very kind,” says I. 

Knowing that all was hopeless now, and that 
neither prayers nor tears could prevail against the 
prisoner’s scruples, I decided to retire. 

“ You will not be gone for some hours yet,” I 
said as I opened the door. 

One of us may,” the Captain said. 

Had I been in a brighter frame of mind I should 
have perhaps heeded this mysterious speech more 
closely, and found in it a prophecy of that which fol- 
lowed. But I went dismally to Led without think- 
ing of its import. Despite the extremity of the 
hour, I found Emblem the picture of woe, sitting be- 
side the fire in my chamber. Her customary smil- 
ing prettiness was faded with weeping; she hung 
her head, and rose on my entrance with a peculiar 
frightened air. Clasping her hands, she whispered : 

“ They’ve ta’en him, my lady.” 

And a very right thing, too,” says I. 

“ But will they not carry him to London to be 


2/0 


LADY BARBARITY. 


hanged?” she asked, seeking for hope where hope 
was not. 

“ I am trusting so,” says I, so cheerfully that my 
tears began to flow. 

I soon came to the conclusion that my mood for- 
bade repose, and therefore, instead of undressing 
and attempting to obtain a much-to-be-desired 
sleep, I dismissed poor Emblem, cast a cloak round 
my shoulders, took a chair by the hearth, and set- 
tled there for the remainder of the night, to doze, to 
think, and to repine. 

However, this plan did not answer. It only in- 
duced a sickening course of meditation that was 
less endurable than the foulest nightmare. No mat- 
ter what my posture, my agonies of mind grew un- 
supportable, and at last I cast the cloak off wearily, 
got up, and began to pace the chamber. It was 
while I was thus wrestling with my pains that I 
heard the far silence of the house disturbed by the 
closing of doors below. By the weight of the 
sounds and the jangling of the chains I presumed 
them to be those of the great hall, and as my win- 
dow commanded the whole frontage of lawn and 
gravel sweep, I promptly pulled aside the curtains. 
Lanterns were twinkling immediately below, and 
by their aid and that of the clear-shining moon I 
was able to read the identity of two persons issuing 
from the house. They were the Captain and his 
prisoner, walking side by side across the lawn in a 
south-westerly direction. They were heading for 
the open meadows, and appeared perfectly amicable 


MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. 271 

and to be talking in low tones; but the briskness of 
their pace and their air of strung activity proclaimed 
that they had some definite end in view. For the 
moment I had not the remotest notion what this 
end could be, but while I stood at gaze and musing 
to discover it, a horrible idea crept into my brain. 
Surely nothing could be more unnatural than two 
sworn enemies working harmoniously together to- 
wards a common end, if that end was peace? But 
was it peace? In a convulsion of alarm I recalled 
the incidents of that hateful night, and amongst 
them was the calculated blow which surely the pris- 
oner was the last man in the world to take with 
meekness. I then remembered the Captain’s pro- 
phetic “ One of us may,” and at once attached to it 
a most sinister significance. Having reached this 
dark conclusion, my first desire was to defeat their 
wicked purposes. I cloaked myself at once for an- 
other night excursion, and having done so stole 
down the stairs as formerly, opened the great hall 
door with wondrous care, then peered ahead to dis- 
cern the course of the receding lanterns. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


IN WHICH THE CAPTAIN’s COMEDY IS PLAYED. 

I COULD see them clearly. They were now 
some distance to the left, apparently in the middle 
of the first home meadow. Thither I bent my 
course across wet turf in the piercing night, but with 
heed for nought save those baleful lanterns. For 
now I was never more convinced of anything than 
that these foes had come abroad to settle once for all 
their long account. By the rapidity with which I 
drew nearer to the lights, I concluded that their 
bearers had halted, probably to choose their battle- 
ground. Instinctively feeling this to be the case, 
I broke into a run. Clearing the lawn, leaping pell- 
mell across the grotto at its margin, and skirting 
the artificial lake, I emerged into the open field. 
It was so well lit by the bright moon, riding through 
white cloud, that I could see enough to confirm my 
coldest fears. 

The lanterns were now reposing on the grass, 
while each man stood beside his own, perhaps at a 
distance of a dozen paces. They seemed to be fear- 
lessly erect, and absolutely resolute, and this in itself 
was enough to prove that only death was likely to 
272 


THE CAPTAIN’S COMEDY IS PLAYED. 273. 

end their duel. Ere I had time to cry out, or even 
to overcome the first paralysis of the fear that held 
me, one of them, who by his breadth of figure I 
knew to be the Captain, raised his right hand slowly. 
At that, although the actual time of the whole affair 
could not have exceeded half a minute, such tricks 
can terror play upon us that the entire strength ap- 
peared to ooze slowly from my body, as though a 
surgeon had opened one of my vital arteries and 
was bleeding me to death by slow degrees. And 
the instant the Captain’s hand went up, I stopped 
through arrant horror and that dreadful sense of 
sheer incompetence that afflicts one in a nightmare. 
I made one attempt to scream out to them, but my 
throat seemed useless, and my voice resembled the 
feeble cfoakings of a frog. Before I could make 
another, there came a sound like a mastiff’s bay, 
and in the most cold, convulsive terror I put my 
hands before my eyes. They must have been still 
there, I think, and my eyes have turned to stone, for 
to this day I swear that I never saw the second and 
the fatal shot, and, still stranger, actually did not 
hear it. But when my vision cleared I thought I 
saw one man prone beside his lantern, and the other 
bending over him. 

The die cast, and the deed accomplished, my 
limbs resumed their proper office and I was able to 
proceed. Fate had intervened already, the wonst 
had happened, the tragedy was consummated. The 
actual fact is ever easier to support than the sus- 
pense of it. While I ran to the scene of the murder, 


LADY BARBARITY. 


274 

with my heart grown too big for my body, and ap- 
parently bursting through my side, so complete was 
the illusion played by terror upon my several senses, 
that I was absolutely sure that it was the prisoner 
who was hit, that I had lost a lover, and that the 
world had lost a hero. 

When I arrived breathless upon the battle- 
ground, the survivor was kneeling still beside his 
fallen foe, and appeared to be feeling at his breast. 
But death ever wears an aspect that is wholly un- 
mistakable, and the lad fully extended on his face, 
hands straight by his side, and his form prone be- 
neath the ghastly moon, told me all too surely that 
the life had gone out of him for ever. Without a 
word I also fell upon my knees beside the corpse, 
and took one of the dead man's hands within my 
own. The rnurderer, still kneeling the other side 
of the body, appeared to raise his face and look at 
me, and then he cried in a voice of hoarse astonish- 
ment: 

“ You?” 

I did not answer, but still nursed the dead man’s 
hand, almost without knowing that I did so, such 
strange things does passion do. 

“ Lady Barbara,” he said, in a voice quite unen- 
durable to my ears. 

“ Do not speak,” I whispered, “ I cannot bear to 
hear you speak.” 

“ Lady Barbara,” he said again. 

“God curse you!” I muttered through shut 
teeth. 


THE CAPTAIN’S COMEDY IS PLAYED. 275 

“ He was my enemy,” he croaked in a voice I 
could not recognise. 

“Oh, that I should have loved him!” I cried 
out wildly. “ Why did you not put a bullet through 
this heart of mine? ” 

And then without further heed of him I con- 
tinued to embrace the dead man’s hand, and knelt 
there with it in my desperate grasp, oblivious of 
everything but the dreadful still passionate agony of 
sorrow that held me. I was conscious of nothing, 
not even of the slow passing of the hours, not even 
of the cruel biting of the cold — nay, not even that 
the murderer had slunk from me away into the 
night, that friend of murder, and that I and my 
lover were alone. 

How long I was the victim of this impotence I 
cannot tell, but at last I grew aware that the dawn 
had touched my eyes, and that with it light and 
sanity had returned. Truly day is the source of 
reason. Had the pitch of night continued for ever, 
for ever I must have stayed by the couch of my cold 
lover. But broad day was too bright and bold and 
fearless to countenance for an instant the madness 
of grief my bereaved heart was craving to wreak 
upon itself. Therefore I rose, stiff and numb with 
my perishing wintry vigil, and turned my face to- 
wards the house. But with daylight to incite it, it 
was most strange how instantly my sleeping blood 
woke, and how soon my mind was restored to its 
fullest faculty. Once more could I think — yea act; 
whilst presently my eyes forgot the moonlight and 


LADY BARBARITY. 


276 

the dead man’s form, and grew sensitive to detail. 
There were the pistols covered with hoar, and the 
burnt-out lanterns cold beside them. Scarce three 
paces from me was the murderer’s crutch, and yet 
more strangely his gold-laced hat with the king’s 
cockade upon it. Verily this was mystery. How 
he could have made off with his damaged knee un- 
supported required to be explained, while his dis- 
carded hat was not the less to be remarked. It is 
probable that my reawakened senses, rejoicing in 
their new activity, discovered a latent fascination in 
the scene. For, certain it is, that I turned back out 
of the purest curiosity to observe the enlightened 
aspect of the corpse. 

It had the uniform, the shape, the entire sem- 
blance of Captain Grantley! A fit of very violent 
trembling seized me at that sight, and for the first 
time in my life, I think, I lost the almost joyous self- 
confidence that was wont to make me the equal of 
the most infinite occasion. But after the first spasm 
of terror and surprise, bald daylight, and the as- 
surance of my natural disposition, asserted them- 
selves determinedly. Whatever the stress and 
agony of the night, whatever the morbid hysteria 
that had so long corrupted me, and the awful pangs 
I had undergone, I was certain that now I was ab- 
solute mistress of my mind. It was impossible that 
my vision could be distorted now; I was compelled 
to believe the evidence of my eyes. 

Captain Grantley was lying on his face, presum- 
ably with a bullet through his heart, for there was a 


THE CAPTAIN’S COMEDY IS FLAYED. 277 

blotch of black upon his bright military coat, to in- 
dicate the manner of his death. I could see little of 
his countenance, yet quite enough of it to identify 
him plainly. Despite the slight distortion his fea- 
tures had undergone in the throes of death, there 
was no ground for doubt that it was the Captain’s 
body that lay stone cold in the grass. There was 
his figure, his uniform, his powdered hair, his large, 
fat nose, and the heavy bandages around one knee 
to convince me that I had been a most pitiable fool. 
What a passionate grief had I lavished on a foe! 
And yet, poor wretch — poor wretch! We forgive 
all things to the dead. 

It was now that my feelings underwent a very 
wonderful revulsion. The knowledge that, after 
all, it was our declared enemy who was dead, and 
that the man, my lover, whom he had hunted so 
long and so remorselessly, was alive and at large, 
reinspired me with energy and hope. A vision of 
freedom for the fugitive and a consummation of that 
which I so ardently desired, took me to the house 
with the swiftness of the wind. If young Anthony 
had had the folly not to seize his chance of escape 
already, it remained for me to make him do so. 

When I arrived the household was astir. Two 
of the Captain’s men stood talking on the lawn with 
faces of much gravity. It was plain that the ab- 
sence of their leader was already known, but judg- 
ing by their demeanour I thought it scarcely likely 
that they had heard the tidings of his end. As I 
entered the hall, my thoughts were wholly for the 


278 


LADY BARBARITY. 


prisoner. Had he escaped? Or was he retaken? 
Unhappily these questions were not unanswered 
long. Repairing straightway to the library, I dis- 
covered the rebel in the custody of Corporal Flick- 
ers and two men. He was seated at a table in the 
Captain’s chair with all the nonchalance so peculiar 
to him, teasing his captors, and sipping cherry 
brandy in gentle quantities to reanimate his blood. 
There seemed a touch of the sublime in the calm 
manner in which he bowed to fate. 

“ Perhaps her ladyship can tell us,” says the 
Corporal, regarding my appearance with great 
eagerness. “ What’s happened to the Capting, 
ma’am? Is it right that this ere slip o’ hell’s 
a-corpsed ’im.” 

“ My dear man,” says I, with the most flattering 
suavity, and a pretty considerable cunning also, 
“ if you will just step into the home meadow, you 
will discover for yourself your commander’s desper- 
ate disposition.” 

“ Ha, ladyship ! ” the Corporal answered, with a 
grin, “ I’m a rather oldish bird, you see. I’ve met 
your sort afore, my lady. You’ll take care o’ the 
prisoner, won’t you, while we goes and has a look? ” 

“ Certainly,” says I, a thought sardonically per- 
haps, “ I shall be only too happy to take care of 
him.” 

“ Then you won’t,” says Mr. Corporal, with a 
leer, “ and that’s a moral. Don’t you think so, 
William?” 

William thought it was. 


THE CAPTAIN^S COMEDY IS PLAYED. 279 

From this it will be seen that though the Cor- 
poral might be furnished with slightly less intelli- 
gence than his dead commander, he was not the 
less determined foe. 

All this time the prisoner had not received me 
with a single word. This was hardly to be un- 
looked for in the light of late events. But my brain 
was still in such a flutter of bewilderment regarding 
the awful passages in the meadow, that at first 
it found no reason for his taciturnity, and was in- 
clined to resent it deeply. Having broken a lance 
with Mr. Flickers, I devoted my attentions to the 
lad. 

“ Well,” I bitterly began, “ you have made an- 
other pretty hash of things. You are able to defeat 
a gold-laced captain, and one whom I believe to be 
as skilled an officer as any in the service of his 
Majesty, and yet permit a twopenny Corporal to 
take you.” 

“ Did you not call on God to curse me? ” he said 
in a dreadful voice. 

In a flash I saw in what light he had viewed my 
egregious behaviour. Surely it was not to be sup- 
posed that he had divined that I was the victim of 
the bitterest delusion! That being the case it was 
only possible for him to put one interpretation on 
my attitude, and that the most blighting to his dig- 
nity and his happiness. I saw that the mischief 
must be immediately repaired. 

Corporal,” says I, “ I must ask you and your 
men to withdraw to the other side the door. I 


28 o 


LADY BARBARITY. 


have something of great privacy to communicate to 
Mr. Dare.” 

But the Corporal seemed disinclined to move. I 
understood his muttered reply to be to the effect 
that he knew his business thoroughly, and further, 
that he had encountered my kind before. How- 
ever, I put such majesty in my look, and opened 
him the door with such an air, that he did my be- 
hests against the counsels of his judgment, for sol- 
diers, of all men, cannot prevail against those ac- 
customed to command. 

In a few words, then, I calmed the riot in young 
Anthony. And when he saw what had been my 
error, and what had been his own, his eyes began to 
sparkle, and the sunshine came into his face. 

‘‘ On my soul ! ” he cried, “ I thought you could 
not be quite the she-devil that you seemed.” And 
then with a tender gravity at the remembrance of 
his impending doom : “ Bab, I wish I could live 

and love you. I should be a model of a husband, 
and we’d make a pretty handsome pair.” 

“Well,” says I, fascinated with the bravery of 
his countenance, “ I’ve the very greatest mind to 
make a husband of you. You are the most wonder- 
fully handsome lad, and headstrong too, and that’s 
why I so encourage you.” 

“ I wish there was no Tyburn Tree,” says he, 
with wistfulness. 

Thereupon I gathered all my inches up. 

“ Tree or no Tree,” says I, “ I am going to make 
a declaration of my policy. Day or night I will not 


THE CAPTAIN’S COMEDY IS PLAYED. 28 1 

cease in my endeavours. Only keep a stout, cheer- 
ful heart, child, and I will show you what devotion 
is. ril bully or persuade, intrigue or ruffle it, but 
what ril save you. I will browbeat the King, my 
lad, and pass a special law in Parliament, but what 
you shall escape the Tree. Now here’s my hand on 
that, and mind you do not quiver until the rope is 
interfering with your breath.” 

This was braggadocio indeed, and designed 
maybe to brace my poor spirit up to the high forti- 
tude that was his own. And yet, God knows, my 
ultimatum was sincere, and the hapless captive took- 
it so to be. 

Having thus decided on our future course, the 
lad suddenly fell again to gravity. 

“ I suppose you do not know,” says he, “ that 
your friend the Captain met his end by murder? ” 

“ Impossible,” says I, “ it was a duel fought ac- 
cording to the laws; and that I’ll swear to, because 
I witnessed it. And furthermore, the Captain had 
first shot, and therefore the greater opportunity.” 

“ It was none the less a murder, as I have sub- 
sequently learnt,” he says, “ and I can give you 
the murderer’s name.” 

“ His name is not Anthony Dare, I know,” I 
answered stoutly. 

“ No, her name is my Lady Barbara Gossiter.” 

“What do you mean?” I demanded with an 
anger that his brutal plainness had provoked. 

“Do you see this little bullet on my palm?” 
says he. 


282 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Well, what have I to do with that? ” I asked, 
“ and what has that to do with murder? ” 

“ Alas ! too much,” says he. “ On returning 
from the fight I had the misfortune to discover this 
bullet on this very library carpet, and I wish I could 
misread its meaning, madam, but that I cannot do; 
and I’ll show you why I cannot. We settled all the 
details in this room ere we started for the field. You 
know, of course, that the fight was forced upon me 
by the intolerable conduct of the man; but you do 
not know that he insisted on us firing at twelve 
paces to make the aim more positive. Nor do you 
know that he tried by all means in his power to con- 
cede the first shot to me, and that when I refused 
to do other than allow the falling of the coin to dic- 
tate it, he looked to the contents of his loaded weap- 
on. Certainly I never guessed that I was to shoot 
an undefended adversary, but had the thought but 
come into my mind I could certainly have found 
some premonitions. Seeing me a trifle pale, he 
begged me to be quite at my ease, as he knew, he 
said, that he should be the only one to fall. And 
further, he wrote this hasty note, and made me 
promise that when he perished, according to his 
prophecy, I would deliver this immaculately into 
your hands. And now have I done so.” 

Forthwith he concluded his singular but solemn 
statement, which had evidently wrought upon his 
mind to a grave degree, by submitting a sealed mis- 
sive to my care. With trembling fingers I tore it 
open, and feverishly read its contents. It said: 


THE CAPTAIN’S COMEDY IS PLAYED. 283 

“ My Dear Madam, — Looking at my sad case 
with what eyes I may, I find that I cannot be al- 
lowed to exist another day as an honourable man. 
I am a traitor to my king, and in so being have com- 
mitted a crime against my own soul. Whatever his 
Majesty in his clemency may think fit to do, this is a 
fault I cannot pardon in myself. My dear madam, 
I must beg you to believe that I do not advertise 
this to you that I may wound your delicacies or give 
you one solitary pang; but in the interests of my 
weak brethren I implore you, as an old friend, not 
to employ those marvellous advantages Nature has 
given you for the advancement of your private pur- 
poses. It is not just, nor is it worthy of the innate 
humanity of your character. But I will do you at 
least the kindness to admit that even in this melan- 
choly case of mine my death this morning will add 
yet another lustre to your terrible, triumphant 
name. And now, my dear madam, permit me to 
give you a simple but cordial farewell; my comedy 
is played. J. G. 

“ Post Scriptum . — This paper is delivered into 
the care of your lover, who, by the way, is so 
proper a youth that I pray you to deal gently with 
him. J. G.” 

I read this subtly-phrased epistle with a burning 
face, and then read it for the second time, perhaps to 
discover some mitigation in the severity of the 
harsh indictment. But no; his death was at my 
door, and something of a cold fear crept into my 
soul. 


19 


284 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Presently I gave the paper to my lover, and told 
him to acquaint himself therewith. 

“ My lad,” says I, “ I believe that I have slain 
a very admirable man.” 

Having read the dead man’s words, he tossed 
the paper from him, and eyed me fiercely with the 
most indignant face. 

“ Bab,” he said, “ I hate you for this! His blood 
is most surely on your head; and it would be but 
common justice if his corpse still haunts you o’ 
nights when you are a fear-ridden hag of a hundred 
winters.” 

I made no answer to his blame, for remorse 
was poisoning my heart. 

“ Yes,” says he, “this was a very proper man. 
But cheer up, Bab, for when all is claimed, I think 
that you are a very proper woman too, and I am 
going to forgive you for your wickedness.” There- 
upon he rose briskly from his chair, came to my 
side, and kissed me right properly, with never a sign 
of ceremonial. I was in no condition to reprove 
his impudent assumption, and perhaps had I been, 
I might have found it scarcely possible to do so, for 
his behaviour was the most wonderful proof, I 
thought, of his magnanimity. * 

“Now cheer up, Bab,” he said; “but I wish 
that you damned women would keep your claws 
more regularly trimmed. You are just like soft, 
tame, pretty pussycats, that go a-hunting the dear 
harmless birds. You will not keep your paws 
down; you love to flesh ’em; and, well, if you slay 


THE CAPTAIN’S COMEDY IS PLAYED. 285 

the dear harmless creature, the dear harmless crea- 
ture’s slain, and there’s an end on’t. You are sure 
that you did not mean to do it, and it’s a great pity 
that you did, and had you thought it would have torn 
it so, sure you would not a done it for a golden 
pound. But as he’s dead let his end be dignified, so 
put down twopence for some masses for his soul ! ” 

“ You may gibe,” said I, miserably, “ but I would 
that I were not the wicked wretch I am ! ” 

And I sat down tearful, and in a truly repentant 
mind, for I could not rid my brain of the unholy 
image of that poor, pale man stark upon the mead- 
ow sward. 

“ His death was prettier than ever was his life,” 
said Anthony, still musing on the tragic theme. 
“ For at least he sold his country.” 

“ But at what cost did he cede it? ” I demanded 
fiercely. “ And who spurred him to the deed? ” 
“That is what I never will enquire,” says he; 
and the pledge accompanying this sweet speech 
was of such a gentle consolation that rapture soft- 
ened my keenest pangs. 

Until that moment I did not know what a tender 
and a faithful ^art might do. ’Twas good to feel 
that a man was mine who could recognise my crime, 
and yet was strong enough to pardon me for its 
commission. But like the very female creature that 
I surely am, I did not pause to consider then that 
this crime had been committed for the sake of the 
hero who had condoned it with such a lordly mag- 
nanimity. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 

Of our cruel parting I shall speak little. Dur- 
ing the forenoon the soldiers buried their com- 
mander in the rude military way. Few were the 
honours that attended him, and perhaps fewer still 
the tears. But mine were with him, and also a re- 
morse that I have never yet outlived. That he de- 
served to die, even as he did, I know; for the world 
has no room for weakness in a man, and, verily, this 
poor Captain was the very slave of his. And yet ! — 
was there not ever the great “And yet! ” attached 
to this poor man’s character? His mind was pow- 
erful, and better far, his heart was true. He would 
have been a fitting guardian for the finest woman of 
us all; a tender lover, an unswerving friend, wise, 
temperate, of the cream of chivalry withal. I had 
slain a very pretty man to gain my private ends — I, 
who in my ignorance had declared that the world 
held no men whatever! 

At two of the clock that afternoon the soldiers 
started on their London journey with the prisoner 
in their care. The admonition that I gave to my 
young lover was of this nature: 

286 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


287 


“ Child, do not despair until you are writhing in 
the rope. I, Bab Gossiter, have sworn to save you, 
and you know my power. I will accost the King; 
I will browbeat his Justices; I will intimidate his 
Parliament rather than you shall grin through a 
halter at the dirty populace. Remember that I love 
you, and that love unaided can overthrow the devil. 
Be of good heart then, and continue in that most 
excellent way of yours of taking a quart of old ale 
and a solid pound of rump steak to your breakfast. 
As for your prayers, I would have you invariably 
conclude ’em in this manner: ‘And, O God, do 
you bless my dearest Bab, for she has sworn to de- 
liver me from this most horrid prison, that she may 
make a right proper husband of me to the end that 
my state may be exchanged to a sweeter bondage 
than this present one.’ ” 

At these words his fine eyes danced with a 
laugh which said how inflexible his courage was. 
Afterwards he mounted his horse and rode to- 
wards the moors in the society of his captors. As 
his form receded slowly among the trees, and 
my spirits ceased to be encouraged by his robust 
bearing and the jaunty waving of his hat, an im- 
pending cloud blotted the December sun and dark- 
ened the whole of earth. 

It was then I felt my heart sink. Only for a 
moment though, for the high buoyancy of its re- 
solves was sufficient to support it. There was work 
to do, and work, I take it, is the true elixir, the 
secret of everlasting energy. In order to repress 


288 


LADY BARBARITY. 


my tears, and to defeat a very natural tendency to 
suchlike female squeamishness, I began at once to 
prosecute the matter. 

The Earl, my papa, was the earliest victim of this 
fanatical determination. Poor Anthony had not 
left the place an hour ere I repaired to the apart- 
ment of his lordship. The dear, good old gentle- 
man was exactly in the posture that I had antici- 
pated seeing him; to wit, he was propped up in 
cushions beside the fire, with divers cellarets of 
liquor at a little table ready to his hand, of which he 
was for the nonce utterly unheedful, having a nicer 
dissipation to enjoy. A handkerchief was spread 
across his face, and right lustily was he snoring, 
this being the hour of his post-prandial nap, a per- 
formance he undertook far more religiously than he 
ever did his prayers. 

“ Wake up, my dear,” says I, for my eagerness 
was such that it would brook delay from none. 
Therefore I flicked away his lordship’s handker- 
chief, and with my little finger did tickle tenderly 
his ancient chin. 

“ Go ’way, you flies ! ” he grunted, “ and damn 
you!” 

However, his nose being presently attacked, the 
old gentleman’s annoyance grew so imperative that 
he shook his face, and was just about to fall into a 
great volubility of language, when his eyes came 
open, and the sight of me immediately curtailed it. 
For the politest man of his time was out of his chair 
bowing and apologising ere one might wink, ex- 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


289 


pressing with his hand over his heart his delight at 
my appearance, and his sincere appreciation of the 
honour that a visit from my fair self conferred upon 
him. 

“ And, my dearest lady,” he concluded, rubbing 
his drowsy eyes, “ if there is one thing you would 
have me perform, I shall esteem it a privilege to 
perform it, for at this moment you behold me quite 
as much as formerly the servant — nay, the slave — 
of beauty, youth, wisdom and wit. But first, 
dear madam, I beseech you to accept a chair.” 

“ Papa,” says I, plunging straight into the busi- 
ness that had brought me, “ I have a few surprises 
for you. First, I think you are acquainted with 
the name of a certain Mr. Dare, a very arrant 
rebel?” 

“ I am,” says he, “ and to my sorrow.” 

“ Well, my lord,” says I, “ they have now reta’en 
this person, and he is bound for Tyburn even 
now.” 

“ Very glad indeed to hear it,” says my lord, 
right heartily. “ And had this been the case a week 
ago, I should have been spared some shattering of 
sleep.” 

The old gentleman here regarded me with a 
singular twinkling keenness that required great 
sturdiness to meet. 

“ Very nice of you, my lord, to cherish such 
sentiments as these towards my future husband,” 
says I, with the most brazen boldness. 

“Your future what!” cries out my lord, jump- 


290 


LADY BARBARITY. 


ing up as though some imp had stuck a pin into his 
chair. 

“ My future husband,” says I, winningly. 

For the best part of a minute a highly comic si- 
lence took him. His brow was puckered into 
creases, as is the way when one is seeking for a jest 
that is concealed. 

“Ha! ha!” he crackled presently, “very good 
jest indeed, my dear, very good indeed! ” 

“ I am sure I am charmed, my lord, that you 
appreciate it,” I says, “ but I have my doubts 
whether this affair is quite such a jest for poor 
young Mr. Anthony.” 

“ Not if you marry him, I daresay,” says his 
lordship naughtily. 

“ Well, my lord,” says I, “ just to be as brief as 
possible, I desire you to see his Majesty at once 
and procure my future husband’s pardon.” 

My lord took forth a red silk handkerchief and 
slowly wiped his wig. 

“ This comes of excessive beauty in a daughter,” 
he commented. “ Lord, ’tis a mercy to have ’em 
plain. My dear child, go and put a powder in your 
milk and sleep off this attack. Frankly, I do not 
like it. Or stay, shall I send for Paradise? It were 
well, perhaps, an your tongue were instantly in- 
spected.” 

“ Papa,” says I, with awful gravity, “ you ap- 
pear to forget that the first duty of a parent is to be 
obedient. I command you, sir, to get you to town 
by to-morrow morning’s mail.” 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


291 

“ Ton my soul and honour! ” coughed his lord- 
ship, “ this is really ” 

“ My lord,” says I, “ must I repeat that I com- 
mand you? I love young Anthony, and therefore 
am I going to marry him.” 

“ He has a birth, of course? ” says this wriggling 
aristocrat. 

“ Not he,” says I, “ left one night on the door- 
step of a priory. Doubtless a bastard of the gutter 
scum. Even his name is not his own. Hath no 
more than threepence-halfpenny and a pair of rag- 
ged breeches to his fortune. Hath stood in prison 
several times and adorned the pillory and the whip- 
ping post on various occasions. In short, my lord, 
he is the sauciest rogue that ever kissed a maid 
against her inclination. And, faith, I believe the 
very raggedest.” 

And you say you are going to marry him? ” 

My lord, I have sworn to marry him.” 

But, my dear lady, this is really too preposter- 
ous. I think you had better talk it over with your 
aunt.” 

The unexpected mention of that dame was peril- 
ously like cold water to my courage. But a little 
fortitude overcame my qualms. 

“No need to appeal to the family, my lord,” I 
said, with arrogance; “ I don’t care fourpence for 
’em, and never did. As for the dowager, my 
aunt, I hate her; and I am indulging in great 
hopes that this miserable match will make her very 
ill.” 


292 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ But, my dearest girl, I beseech you to conde- 
scend to a little reason.” 

‘‘ Oh, if it comes to reason, sir,” I blithely re- 
assured him, “ I have sufficient reason to advance 
with which to endow two sciences.” 

“ We’ll hear it, then, under your permission.” 

“ It’s simply that I love the man, my lord. He’s 
the finest lad you ever saw ; a person of tenacity and 
kindness, of sagacity and courage, of simplicity and 
wit. He would die for me to-morrow, yet he would 
correct me in an error, and have the magnanimity 
to forgive me for a crime. In short, my lord, he is 
the very husband I’ve been pining for this five-and- 
twenty years, and, my lord, let me tell you in con- 
fidence that this is the husband that I am going to 
marry an I must burn Newgate to the ground to 
achieve the consummation. He’s as sparkling as 
the sunshine, and keen as the shrewd east wind.” 

“ But insufficient in his pedigree,” my lord 
groaned, and it was really ridiculously* piteous to 
witness his drawn white countenance. 

“ My dearest Bab,” says he, directly, and with a 
simple gentleness that was appealing, “ pray allow 
me to give you a little counsel. I pray you for 
heaven’s sake dismiss this folly! I beg you to ab- 
stain from so terrible an error.” 

“Papa,” says I, curtly, “I have a chin.” And 
out I jutted it, and dipped my forefinger in the dim- 
ple in it, which dimple is worth about two thousand 
sighs a year, they tell me. 

“ Yes,” says his lordship, sadly, “ you have a 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


293 


chin. It was bequeathed you by your late mamma. 
She was the celebrated lady who on one occasion 
did box the ears of the Prince of Wales. I believe 
that on one or two occasions also she interfered 
with mine. A very pearl of women, mind, with the 
beauty of an angel, but she could be a domestic ter- 
ror if she chose.” 

“ But, my lord, I understand that if she so much 
as held her little finger up, you were wonderful 
docile and obedient.” 

I was never guilty of the discourtesy of thwart- 
ing a woman in her whims.” 

“ And in your age you will not be so, I am 
certain, else the world will say you are arrived at 
your decrepitude,” I cunningly replied. 

“You really think they will?” his lordship 
gasped. 

“ I am as certain of it as I am uncertain of my 
future state,” says I, with fervour. “ And if you or- 
der the chaise for twenty after six to-morrow, you 
will catch the nine o’clock from York with ease.” 

“’Tis horrible cold at that unseasonable hour 
these winter mornings,” says the old man, nerv- 
ously. 

“ The journey will do you more good than six 
physicians,” says I, with the sturdiest conviction. 
“ And when his Majesty receives so old a friend, 
tears of joy will fill his eyes; and when he learns 
the exceeding mercy of the errand that hath brought 
you, his compassion for you will be such, that ’pon 
my soul I think he’ll weep upon your neck. And 


294 


LADY BARBARITY. 


I believe he’ll lend us the Royal Chapel to be 
married in. And faith, my lord, what if he gave 
away the bride ! ” 

The dear old gentleman, who never could find it 
in his heart to deny us women anything, was visibly 
shaken by my ruddy eloquence and the excited 
flashing of my eyes. 

“ But these winter mornings are most harsh to- 
wards us men of middle age,” says he. 

“ My dear papa,” says I, “ your years sit so neat- 
ly on you that it is the height of affectation for you 
to claim the least infirmity. Now I will see that 
you retire at nine o’clock this evening; I will have 
your man prepare your baggage, and see that he 
puts a water-bottle in the chaise. Leave everything 
to me, my dear papa, and depend upon it you shall 
start for town at twenty after six to-morrow, as 
blithely as you did upon your wedding morning. 
But, sir, there is one thing that you must promise 
me: not a word to my most admirable aunt. A 
long course of theology and smelling salts hath per- 
verted the original poetry of her soul.” 

His lordship promised gallantly, but quite as 
much, I think, from a fear of Lady Caroline as from 
his natural disposition to oblige me. Having once 
wrung a kind of tottering consent from the old, re- 
luctant gentleman, I was at great pains to keep him 
to his word. I planned everything relating to his 
journey with the greatest perspicacity and prompti- 
tude, nor did I omit to advise his lordship of the 
fact. But I had to confess to my private mind that 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


295 


my faith was not too great in my ambassador, who, 
from age and his habit of indolence, might not con- 
duct my cause with a liveliness that would readily 
sway his Majesty. Therefore I took a piece of 
paper and drew up the heads of what I considered 
his behaviour ought to be in the presence of the 
King, and hoped that as they were so explicitly re- 
corded he would duly follow them. The paper ran, 
I think, somewhat to this tenour: Obtain audience 
after his Majesty hath dined, for the sake of his 
temper’s condition — inquire after his health with 
concern — if it be strong let your solicitude be quite 
visible; if it be weak tell him in a hearty voice that 
you never saw him looking better in his life, and 
that you never knew a doctor yet who was not a fool 
providing he was not a rogue. Casually introduce 
the beauty and the amiability of his children; if his 
Majesty attempt a jest laugh heartily^ if he under- 
take a story, do not by any chance have heard it 
previously, and encourage him with your applause 
long before it culminates; if he adventure a pun, 
flick forth your handkerchief to take away appre- 
ciative tears; if he be glum, avoid theology and 
politics; if he offer snuff, accept the most moderate 
of pinches (he is a Guelph, you know), and be hor- 
ribly careful that you do not drop a grain on the 
carpet or his breeches; be charmed with the rarity 
and the beauty of the box, and if it prove a present 
from the Queen comment on the chastity of her 
taste — if you carry a better in your fob do not ex- 
hibit it; tell him casually that your daughter Bab is 


LADY BARBARITY. 


296 

devoted to him, and contrive to let him know what 
the poets think about her (even kings cannot with- 
stand the devotion of fair women) — tell him that she 
has five pictures of him to adorn her chamber, then 
pave the way with compliments and caution for the 
business of your visit. 

I insisted on his lordship’s retiring that evening 
very early, and after a pretty moderate potation. 
Having bribed his man to have his master wound 
up and set in motion at an hour that astonished him, 
I retired also. The following morning at the stroke 
of five I was in the hands of Emblem, and a little 
later was personally superintending the departure 
of my emissary. Long before my aunt appeared 
at eight o’clock I had got my lord upon his journey. 

You may divine with what impatience I awaited 
his return. I might be distrustful of his years, but 
regarding the considerable figure that he made at 
Court, and the power he wielded, I never enter- 
tained a doubt. Besides, he had a tact quite won- 
derful in a man, and a power of soft persuasion that 
was irresistible as a music. And I knew the dear 
good soul to be devoted to me, and incapable of 
thwarting my most unreasonable whims. 

An intolerable fortnight passed before my lord 
was back again. He had hardly time to doff his 
travelling suit ere I was besieging him with my 
anxious questions. But it was very sad news he 
brought me. 

“ My dear child,” he told me, tenderly, “ I wish 
to spare you all pain that is unnecessary, but I re- 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


297 

gret to say that there is really nothing to be done. 
His Majesty refused to see me.” 

“ His Majesty refused to see you! ” I cried out. 
His words had put a pitiful commotion in my heart. 

“ Unhappily,” he says, “ these Yorkshire irregu- 
larities of ours have by some means become the 
property of the town, and the whole family is in ter- 
rible disgrace; and, I might add, would have been 
in some degree of peril but for the merciful recov- 
ery of the rebel.” 

“ Indeed,” says I, inconsequently, and then ob- 
served a miserable silence for a while. 

“ You see, my poor dear child,” the old world- 
ling said, “ one cannot hope to plunge one’s fin- 
ger in the smoking pie of politics without getting 
that finger burned. I am very sorry for you, child, 
but I can no more save your friend than I can sway 
the eternal forces.” 

“ Have you seen the Parliament men, my lord, 
Walpole, Harley, and the rest? ” 

“Yes; and quite against their several inclina- 
tions,” he replied. “ They felt it to be highly in- 
discreet to receive one who was out of favour. As 
for lending their assistance, I can assure you, child, 
that they know their business better.” 

“ How monstrous of them! ” I broke out; “ set 
of water-blooded wretches, who will not help their 
friends ! ” 

“ Ah, but we are not their friends now; we are 
out of favour.” The ancient courtier said this light- 
ly, but I knew that his heart was groaning. He had 


LADY BARBARITY. 


298 

passed his gay years bathed in the sunshine of ap- 
plause and popularity; it was bitter that his end 
should be a dark night of contumely and neglect. 
Nothing could be more cruel or more wounding to 
this polished and successful man of fashion. Yet it 
amazed me to see how finely he took these rebuffs 
of fortune. His courage sat on him like a shining 
suit of mail. It filled my heart with tears to witness 
such cheerful bravery in the aged and the infirm. 

“Well, papa,” says I, turning to speech as a- 
remedy against the weakness that strove to so in- 
siduously reduce me, “ I have sworn to save young 
Anthony, and never yet have I proved unequal to 
my word.” 

“ Tis never too late to create a precedent,” says 
the Earl, “ nor to enjoy a new experience. I have 
lived many years, but it is not until to-day that I 
have tasted the coldness of the world.” 

“ I have always averred, you know,” says I, with 
misfortune spurring me to my customary petu- 
lance ; “ that these sauer-kraut chewing boors from 
Hanover have no more breeding than a certain na- 
tive beastliness that enables them to become like 
pigs, offensive to creatures of a nicer mind. But, 
after all, wit is the superior of power; and if I cannot 
find a means whereby to thwart ’em, I must be con- 
tent to lose the only husband I ever can accept. I 
will start for town to-morrow morning.” 

“No, don’t do that,” says his lordship, hastily; 
“ I am sure it will be very ill advised. Pray wait 
until this cloud is over blown. You are too much 


I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY. 


299 


of a butterfly, my pretty lady, not to discover the 
shade exceeding cruel to endure. You will find 
London very blighting, I assure you.” 

But I was unheedful, and the more particularly 
when I was told that poor Anthony had undergone 
his trial already, and that at that hour he lay in New- 
gate under extreme sentence, which awaited exe- 
cution on the 24th of May. 

It was now the 2nd of that month. It will thus 
be seen how little time there was to lose. Three 
weeks and a day were left in which to procure his 
deliverance; not by any means too adequate a 
period in which to accomplish so involved a deed, 
even had I had the ghost of an idea as to the man- 
ner of its consummation. 

To remain at Cleeby the slave of despair and 
bitterness would certainly be fatal to my lover; 
therefore, quitting my dubious papa, I hied imme- 
diately to Emblem and bade her pack my baggage. 
On the morrow I was speeding to the south, evolv- 
ing as I went all sorts of mad schemes in my brain 
for the achievement of so desperate an end. 


20 


CHAPTER XX. 


I SPEAK WITH THE CELEBRATED MR. SNARK. 

On arriving at our town residence in Blooms- 
bury it was easy to ascertain that the family of 
Long Acre had fallen on an evil time. The troops 
of friends that formerly were so willing to receive 
and to be received now kept aloof, and avoided me 
in every way possible, as though I were a very leper. 
At first I felt disposed to accept this calmly, and in 
an amused but not uncharitable spirit. I persuaded 
myself that I could surely dispense with the favour 
of these shallow persons. But one week of it cor- 
rected this impression. For I soon discovered that 
flattery, admiration, and wholesale triumphs in the 
social sphere were indispensable to a life in town. 
Nature, in endowing me with a smile that, as young 
Anthony once remarked, was “ sufficient to sweeten 
sour cream,” and a beauty of person that provoked 
more odes than a successful campaign, also cursed 
me with a craving for its appreciation. Therefore 
in a day or two, when the novelty was outworn, dis- 
favour and neglect became terribly irksome to sup- 
port. And however proud a face I might put upon 
the matter when I went abroad, my pain was. not 
thereby made the softer. 

300 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


301 


It seems that the story had flown across the 
town with the quickness peculiar to a scandal, that 
our family had been so active in the cause of the 
Pretender Charles, that it had gone the length of 
harbouring rebels at our place in Yorkshire, and 
had even plucked them from the custody of the Han- 
overian’s troops. Further, it was known that the 
King had refused the entree to my father and my- 
self, and soon a sinister rumour crept abroad to 
the effect that the Earl’s name was to be cited in 
the House of Lords, he being guilty of a capital of- 
fence. Truly I found things in London to be dark 
indeed. It was evident from the first that it would 
be impossible to seek in high places for aid for the 
man lying under sentence of death in Newgate. It 
was this ulterior assistance that I had relied on 
wholly ; and now for it to be quite beyond my reach, 
was a great aggravation to my miseries. Shorn of 
this privilege of the powerful, I knew not which 
way I must turn, and in a week or less was at my 
wits’ end for an expedient. At that time my lover 
had only ten days to live, and here was I with noth- 
ing done. Where were my promises? The agony 
that was mine during those fast-slipping days I do 
not care to dwell on. Every hour that passed was a 
reproach to my futility. The suspense, the misery, 
the vain repinings as I searched for a means and 
could not find one, whilst the days all too rapidly 
escaped, fretted me almost to the fever-state. By 
night I could not sleep; yet by day I could accom- 
plish nothing. Shunned and scorned by all who 


302 


LADY BARBARITY. 


had the power to help me; fretted by the horrid dis- 
abilities of petticoats, and the most sheer ignorance 
of how to achieve so grave and dangerous a con- 
summation, there seemed nothing left for me to do, 
other than to await, with what fortitude I might, 
the rebel’s awful end. But this I could not do. 

To farther aggravate my woes, some dear friend 
of mine contrived that the news should be borne to 
my ears that the town was in full possession of the 
fact that I was deeply in love with a certain tattered 
adventurer and rogue lying under sentence of death 
in Newgate, and that I was surely sickening with 
the thoughts of his impending doom. Although I 
deeply doubt whether this story was actually ac- 
cepted, it was not the less industriously circulated 
because there happened to be a doubt about it. I 
laughed bitterly when I reflected how unwittingly 
near they had approached the truth. 

When I rose, weary and unrefreshed one morn- 
ing, and reflected that there were only nine days left, 
I grew utterly desperate. But in the course of that 
night’s intolerable vigil, I had conceived the sem- 
blance of an idea. Therefore, while Mrs. Polly 
ministered to me, I proceeded to put it into a some- 
what more palpable shape. 

“ Emblem,” says I, “ I have been wondering 
lately whether there is a rogue in all this city, who, 
if liberally paid for his devotion, would render me 
some honest services.” 

Would not a man of rectitude be able to per- 
form these services?” says she. 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


303 


“ That’s the rub, for he would be unwilling,” I 
replied, and when I went a point farther and ex- 
plained the nature of them, Mrs. Emblem agreed 
with this opinion. 

“ Well, your la’ship,” says she, with a brave 
fidelity for which I was truly grateful; “if such a 
one is to be found, you can take it that I’ll find him.” 

“ Then you are a dear, good soul,” I told her, 
warmly, for surely it was encouraging to know that 
I had one friend in a world of enemies. 

I never enquired too deeply into the means that 
were adopted to procure the services of the cele- 
brated Mr. Snark. How Mrs. Polly Emblem came 
to hear of him at all, or in what manner she con- 
trived to coax him from his remote and modest 
lodging in the Ratcliffd Highway, from whence for 
years he had defied the whole of Bow Street to dis- 
lodge him, history hath not deponed unto this pres- 
ent. Yet from the moment the dear, devoted Mrs. 
Polly made that promise to me on that morning of 
culminating miseries, she never ceased to strive to 
make herself the equal of her resolution. Some 
hours later she came to me and said: 

“ I’ve just heard of the very man, your la’ship. 
He’s not a very religious man, your la’ship, but he’s 
an awful knowing one, they say.” 

Thereupon she dispatched more than one emis- 
sary to scour the most questionable haunts in Lon- 
don for him, and every hour or so the honest crea- 
ture brought me very excellent reports to restore 
me to a cheerful spirit. 


304 


LADY BARBARITY. 


“ Mr. Anthony’s as good ‘as delivered,” she 
would say in the most optimistic manner. “ I am 
most positively certain of it, yes, I am! I’m told 
that this Mr. Snark’s a perfect wonder. They say 
he is as clever as the devil, only that he charges 
rather more. But I know it’s not money that you 
will begrudge him 1 ” 

“ Rather not,” says I. “ Let him but deliver my 
dearest Anthony, and I’ll give him my estate in 
Berkshire.” 

I can well recall this celebrated person and the 
mode of his appearance. It was somewhat late in 
the evening of the sixteenth of the month that he 
came in great privacy to visit me. He was ushered 
into my boudoir and presented by the triumphant 
Mrs. Polly Emblem. 

“ This be the gentleman, your la’ship,” says she, 
whilst the gentleman in question ducked and 
grinned. 

In the dimness of the lamp I could just discern 
a man, extraordinary small, drest with a plain re- 
spectability, and had a pair of eyes set very close, 
and small and hard and twinkling as chips of glass. 
And such was the peril of my state of mind, and so 
precarious was the deed with which I was about to 
charge him, that I was quite rejoiced when I saw 
that Mr. Snark had a face of the most finished and 
perfect villainy. Here was a man that I might trust 
instinctively with any crime. 

At first I was uncertain as to the precise fashion 
of my address, because the affair demanded some- 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


305 


thing of delicacy on the side of both. But in re- 
gard to talk it was plain that I must look for no as- 
sistance from my visitor, who appeared to be of the 
essence of discretion. Besides he was far too oc- 
cupied in running his eyes about the room, appar- 
ently with the object of making a complete inven- 
tory of all the articles therein. At last I spoke: 

“You are Mr. Snark, I understand?” I said, 
somewhat clumsily, I fear. 

“ Call me plain Snark,” says he, with his horrid 
little eyes glistening at a golden candlestick. 

“ Well, Mr. Plain Snark,” I nervously began, 
and then stopped and whispered urgently to Mrs. 
Emblem: “For heaven’s sake stay here and keep 
your eye upon him! If I were to be left alone with 
him I’m certain that inside twenty minutes he would 
strangle me, pawn the furniture, and sell my body 
to the surgeons! ” 

The ears of my visitor were so acute, it seemed 
that they must have caught a hint of what I said, 
for he looked at me and remarked with considerable 
emphasis and pride: 

“ Snark mayn’t be a picture-book to look at, not 
a Kneller as it were, but he’s a bit of a hartiss in ’is 
’umble way. And modest too is good old Snark. 
He’d no more use cold cream and lavender for to 
beautify his skin than he’d rob an orphing boy.” 

Yet as he spoke his eyes still travelled over me 
and my belongings in a fashion that made me wish 
already that I could forget him as one does an evil 
dream. But there was most instant business to 


LADY BARBARITY. 


306 

transact, and to fail to do it now was to forfeit the 
life of one exceeding dear. Therefore this thought 
gave me the courage to say : 

“ I have sent for you, Mr. Snark, in the hope 
that you will undertake a delicate matter on my 
behalf; a most delicate matter, I might say.” 

A reg’lar tantaliser, as it were?” says Mr. 
Snark. 

“ Yes,” says I, “ a regular tantaliser, Mr. Snark.” 

Well, now you know,” says Mr. Snark, 
‘‘ Snark’s blue death on tantalisers — a plain job’s 
not a bit o’ good to Snark. There’s lots o’ the per- 
fession can undertake a plain job just as well as 
Snark, and charges lesser. But in the higher 
branches, as they says at Bow Street, there’s none 
like good old Snark. Why, that man fair takes a 
pride in the higher branches. Just look at the case 
o’ William Milligan. Talk about hartistic! Why, 
Miss, the case of William Milligan was the wonder 
o’ the age.” 

“And, pray, who was William Milligan?” I 
asked in my hasty ignorance. 

“ Never heard o’ William Milligan? Stop my 
vitals, is this England?” 

And then he turned to Emblem. 

“ Now then, Mary Jane, pipe up, just for to tell 
the lady who was William Milligan! ” 

The luckless Mrs. Polly shook her head, turned 
pale, and clutched a chair. 

“ What, never heard o’ William Milligan? ” says 
he. “ Come, now, I call that good. Strike me 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


307 


purple, you’ll tell me next that you’ve never heard o’ 
Peter Pearce and Johnny Margitts, and Joe the 
Tinker, and Ridin’ Phipps o’ Finsbury. Every 
mother’s son on ’em in ‘ Newgate Calendar,’ wi’ 
their picters draw’d from the life fair, speakin’ natu- 
ral and all their pedigrees beneath. And you never 
to ’a’ heard of William Milligan? What, never 
heard o’ Bagshot Bill — old Bully William — wot in 
his prime would stop a beautiful fat bishop on the 
Heath and strip him of his duds. Why, Snark, 
you’re learnin’.” 

Oh, a highwayman, was he? ” said I, most in- 
advisedly. 

“ Well, Miss,” says he, “ I should rather think he 
were. He was a reg’lar poet at it, William was. 
Not a very big man. Miss, William wasn’t, mind 
you, but by crumbs! see him on his mare wi’ the 
moon arisin’ and a coach a-comin’ down the hill. 
They can talk about their hartisses, and their 
Shakespeares, and their Drydens too, but, Miss, 
that’s what I calls a poet and a man. And William 
were that modest too. Not a smell o’ pride about 
him. ’Ud take his pot and have his jest wi’ me and 
you just as if he were a common person.” 

“ Oh, no; surely not? ” says I, in an earnest ac- 
cent. 

“ Lord, he would. Miss! That’s what’s so grand 
about true greatness. All the real Number One 
men are as mild and silken as a clergyman. Perky 
Niblick treated me to a pot o’ porter the day afore 
he so gloriously died. And Jackson, too; look at 


3o8 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Jackson, the very height of the perfession, but as 
meek in private as a child. Used to bring lollipops 
for my younkers every time he come to sup. But to 
return to Snark. It was that benevolent individual 
wot delivered William Milligan when they was 
a-cartin’ him to Tyburn Tree. An’ he did it out o’ 
love alone, did excellent old Snark; never took a 
penny for the delivery o’ William, for it’s wonderful 
what tenderness one true hartiss has towards a 
brother.” 

“ I’ve always noticed that,” says I ; “ truly a 
very noble trait.” 

“ Now don’t you talk like that, Miss,” says the 
recipient of this flattery, “ for Snark’s that modest 
that it makes him blush up like a girl.” 

Well, Mr. Snark,” says I, to stay the tide of his 
loquacity and to rid myself of the embarrassment of 
his presence, “ please let me tell you in as few words 
as I can what I have sent for you to do.” 

It was remarkable to observe the change that 
then came over him. He listened to all I said with 
the most polite attention, his small eyes twinkling, 
and his wicked face keen and tense, with a concen- 
trated interest. When I had finished he put a few 
sharp questions as to the status of the prisoner. 

“Who is this rebel?” he began. “Important 
man at all? Done much? Any reppitation? 
Never know’d at all in the Highway or the 
Lane.” 

“ He is very young at present,” I replied, “ but 
you will doubtless one day hear of him as Prime 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


309 

Minister of England. For he’s a wonderful fine fel- 
low, and of a very alert intelligence.” 

“ Hum, on’y a Prime Minister! ” says Mr. Snark. 
“ But will they put him in the Calendar? And do 
you think he’s worth my time and trouble. 
Miss?” 

“ Why, my dear man,” says I, “ I can surely 
make it worth your time and trouble. You have 
merely to name the sum.” 

Herein it was that I committed an unpardonable 
crime. 

Pah ! and pish ! ” he cried, and waved his hand 
with magnificent disdain. Do you suppose that it 
is your dirty money that Pve come for? It’s not 
guineas that can make a Snark, young lady, nor 
guineas that can command him. There’s on’y one 
Snark as they knows at Bow Street, and he’s not the 
man to interest hisself in small fry. His very last 
deliverance was no less than Jimmy Finch. All the 
world has heard o’ Bos-eyed Jimmy, but this here 
rebel-man o’ yours has got his name to make. An’ 
Jimmy’s was a job an’ all. I never seed a cleaner. 
Four deep o’ soldiers round the scaffle, an’ a blessed 
barricade. An’ James was prayin’ white as cheese, 
but awful full o’ pluck. An’ there, there was the 
topsman a-fingering the noose. By gum. Miss, it 
was beautiful! And when my boys had done the 
job, you should just a’ heard the crowd a whisper- 
ing: ‘This is a bit o’ Snark’s work. Marvellous 
man, old Snark!’ And then you comes to Snark, 
Miss, and says you can make it worth his trouble! 


310 


LADY BARBARITY. 


Why, Snark’s that stiff, Miss, that he wouldn’t 
deliver the King of England if he hadn’t the de- 
sire.” 

Now it was pretty plain that I had not adopted a 
sufficient humility of tone towards the celebrated 
Mr. Snark. Therefore did I speed to change my 
tactics, and now besought his aid with great and 
meek solicitude. This so far succeeded that, pres- 
ently, he unbent sufficiently to say that three hun- 
dred pounds would be his fee, payable forthwith. 
This latter clause was something of a shock. To 
trust persons of his kidney with their pay before 
they earn it, is generally fatal to their promises. Yet 
Mr. Snark’s high reputation had made him in every 
way so jealous of it, and so sensitive to any slight 
upon his pride, that it was impossible to demur to 
his demand and yet keep him in an accommodating 
humour. Therefore with a sinking heart did I con- 
clude the bargain, and repose my faith in that incal- 
culable Providence that presides over all natural 
affairs. So soon as the money was jingling in his 
hands he prepared to take his leave. 

“Thank ye. Miss,” says he; “but don’t forget 
that Snark conducts this matter at a sacrifice. He 
likes your solid hearty buxom face, which is the 
reason for his kindness. For it’s Snark’s opinion 
that this young rebel man o’ yours is on’y a begin- 
ner, and that his picter won’t be put into the Calen- 
der. But let me see now. The execution is fixed 
up for the twenty-sixth at ten o’clock in the morn- 
ing. Well, that’ll suit Snark handsomely. An’ I 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


3II 

daresay it’ll be a pretty fashionable thing. Shall 
you be present, Miss? ” 

“ Yes,” says I, “ I have engaged the second floor 
of No. 14 in the Square.” 

“ No. 14, is it? ” says he, with so acute a prompt- 
ness that it was a proof that he was competent in all 
the details of his trade. “ No. 14 — why, that’s a 
Providence! It’s passage goes through to Piper’s 
Alley. Now if you take my advice. Miss, you’ll 
have the best horse in London waiting there at ten 
o’clock in Piper’s Alley. You can leave the rest to 
Snark, Miss.” 

“ Will you engage the Dover boat? ” I asked. 

“ Yes,” says he, “ that’s all in the three hundred, 
and the blessed crew that’s a-going for to sail it. 
An’ there’s no need to look so white about it either. 
Your rebel’s just as good as saved. It’s mere nut- 
cracking to old Snark. He’s effected twenty-nine 
deliverances in all parts o’ the world.” 

“ But pray don’t forget, sir,” says I, anxiously, 
“ that he is sure to be guarded dreadful strong. 
The Government consider him as highly dangerous, 
and they know that he hath some influential 
friends.” 

“ Well, I reckon. Miss,” says he, that they’ll 
want three full regiments o’ the line to keep him 
clear o’ Snark.” 

A short time afterwards my whimsical visitor 
took his leave. When he had gone, my meditations 
were remarkable. It was impossible to place an 
absolute reliance in this ingenious person, yet none 


312 


I,ADY BARBARITY. 


the less his character and appearance had inspired 
me with confidence enough to repose some hope 
in his professions. And verily, for better or for 
worse the die was cast, and if at the last this Mr. 
Snark should leave me in the lurch, the rebel would 
inevitably perish. This was the only source that I 
might look to for his merciful deliverance. Every 
other door was absolutely shut. 

It was quite a painful thing to observe the 
cheerfulness that possessed poor Mrs. Polly. From 
this time until the execution day she was never tired 
of informing me of her firm conviction that dear, 
kind Mr. Snark would not fail us, and that sweet, 
young Mr. Anthony was as good as free. But it 
was absurd to see the creature’s red and swollen 
eyes, which her invincible smiling altogether failed 
to hide. And presently this parody of courage 
grew so intolerable to my nerves, that even allow- 
ing for the tenderness of her intentions, I was fain 
to cry out upon her for a cheat, and recommended 
her to desist from these malpractices. 

This was a time, indeed, which I hope Heaven in 
its mercy will not again inflict upon me. What I 
endured, would, I can assert, have wrecked a wom- 
an of less fibre and tenacity. Nearly all my 
thoughts were centred in the cell of the condemned ; 
and at least their concentration spared them some- 
thing of the bitterness of another matter, which 
must otherwise have keenly hurt them — I mean the 
cruel behaviour of the world in which I dwelt. No 
equipages drove up to our house in Bloomsbury. 


I SPEAK WITH MR. SNARK. 


313 


No chairmen laid their burdens down before our 
doors. If I took a short excursion in the park, the 
most intimate of my acquaintances either saw me 
not, or, seeing me, bowed stiffly and passed on in 
a studied silence. In particular my kind women 
friends appeared to derive a sincere happiness from 
what they pleased to call my downfall. The scorn- 
ful gladness of their looks was wonderful, and yet 
also terrible; for alas! what could be the condi- 
tion of the stony hearts from which they did pro- 
ceed? Then it was that I remembered how short a 
time ago I was one of these contemptibles. 

“ Emblem,” says I, on the execution eve, with 
hope born apparently of misery’s excesses, “ I have 
done with town and the Court, and all this ridicu- 
lous world of fashion. They are very barbarous 
affairs! When I wed my Anthony I will be the 
pattern of an attentive spouse. I will be his cheer- 
ful slave and his most devoted friend. But I’ll 
not forego ambition neither. I will train and edu- 
cate him until he doth become a veritable power in 
the realm. For I mean to be the wife of my Lord 
Secretary Dare, and then, my Emblem, I’ll turn all 
these dear women friends of mine just green with 
jealousy. Yet, in my pride, I will not trample on 
them, as they trample now on me, but will deal with 
’em graciously, and ask ’em to my routs among the 
ambassadors and potentates, and prove thereby 
that I am not a cherisher of malice, but a creature 
of a gentler temper than themselves.” 

Yet here, having indulged these harmless specu- 


314 


LADY BARBARITY. 


lations to the full, I recalled with terror the most 
horrid condition of my case. What would the mor- 
row bring? Death, perhaps, and the shattering of 
my hopes. But these cold forebodings I deter- 
mined to avoid, and contrived to do so in a measure, 
for a new matter had come lately to my ears which 
wooed my mind a little from its dark premonitions. 
The fact that I had been a supreme favourite, and a 
trifle arrogant, perhaps, in the hour of my pride, had 
caused the whole town to exult at my disfavour. 
The cause of that disfavour was well known to be 
rooted in my behaviour towards the desperate rebel 
whom on the morrow the King was going to hang. 
And it was further argued that his death of shame 
would aggravate my humiliation. 

Judge, then, of the sensation that was created 
when it was positively known that I had engaged 
the largest and most adjacent window in the square 
that I might be present at the execution! Yea, and 
in the desperation of the hour I even went a point 
farther. I issued invitations to as many of my 
friends as the window would accommodate to come 
and share the gruesome sight with me. This was a 
very thunderbolt. And though they said among 
themselves : “ The brazenness of Lady Bab really is 
incredible,” they were quite unable to resist the fas- 
cination and delightfulness of the whole affair. 
Therefore they accepted with alacrity. And though 
I knew this to be by far the boldest stroke I had 
ever played, not for an instant did I falter, nor doubt 
my native resolution. 


CHAPTER XXL 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 

“ Seven of the clock, your la’ship ! ” 

I opened my heavy eyes, saw Emblem’s pale 
face, then shuddered. 

“ Hope you’ve slept well,” says the maid, in a 
way that told me that, whatever I had done, she 
certainly had not. 

“ Remarkably,” says I, determined to practise for 
the terrible exhibition of fortitude that I must dis- 
play. If all those dear friends of mine have slept 
as properly, they will need to have less powder on 
than usual. And now, my Emblem,” says I, taking 
the cup of chocolate from her, “ mind that you dress 
me to the utmost of your art. Not a stitch must be 
out of place. My head-dress must be a marvel of 
perfection, and put ’em in a towering rage. And 
I’ll wear the plum-coloured taffety, faced with pink. 
Or stay. I’ll have a more sanguine colour; I think 
it should well consort with an interesting paleness.” 

You have a black velvet that will do beauti- 
fully, my lady. Yet you do not wish to wear a 
mourning air? ” 

No, girl,” says I, “ anything save that. Pale, 
but spirited, you know, as one who confronts ad- 
21 315 


3i6 


LADY BARBARITY. 


versity, yet sets her foot upon it. For to-day, if all 
things fail, I am persuaded that I’ll receive my ene- 
mies and outface them every one.” 

I was robed, therefore, with much care, and it 
pleased me, and also braced my resolution up, to 
know that my personal charms could not have been 
displayed to more delicate advantage. I knew that 
to meet the fierce eyes of my enemies would be the 
severest ordeal that I had undergone ; and yet I did 
not shrink, but rejoiced rather in the self-elected 
task. They would expect to see me spiritless and 
crushed with woe; for they were not aware that I 
meant to show them what a fortitude was mine. 
None the less, the time that intervened between now 
and the coming of the coach that was to bear me 
to the final scene of all was passed in morbidity and 
wretchedness. For several days I had sent letters 
of vague comfort and encouragement to young An- 
thony, yet the Governor of Newgate refused to al- 
low them to be delivered, and had sent them back 
again. And now at the last, as the rebel must be 
ignorant of the efforts I was making, I became 
haunted with the fear that he might have made an 
attempt upon his life, for I was certain that, to a 
person of his high temper, any death was preferable 
to the one he was doomed to undergo. And then 
there was the sincerity of Mr. Snark, whose possi- 
bilities were ever present, and harrowing my 
thoughts. Ten minutes before the coach arrived I 
wrung my hands and cried to the already weeping 
Mrs. Polly: 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


317 


“ I know for certain that that horrid little man 
will fail me. He’s got my money, and therefore all 
he does desire. Oh, why did I give it him! Surely 
I might have known that he’d undo me I ” 

“Oh, no. I’m sure he won’t!” says poor Em- 
blem, breaking out in sobs. “ I am sure he is a 
good man, and an honest. I would trust that man 
under any circumstances.” 

“ Do you really think so?” cries I, clinging to 
the weakest straw. 

“ Yes,” wept Emblem more bitterly than ever, 
“ I am sure Mr. Snark is a good and honest man.” 

Very soon the coach was at the door. Even 
this was a relief, for activity took some of the ten- 
sion from our minds, and now the very imminence 
of the thing numbed their aches in some degree. I 
paid not the slightest heed to the way we went, or to 
the appearance of the streets, my senses all being 
deadened with their gloominess. Presently the 
jolting of the coach grew less, the horses reduced 
their pace, and the low murmur of the mob uprose. 
My voice shook pitifully when I said to Emblem, 
who would insist on accompanying me through 
everything: 

“Are we in good time?” 

“ The cart is not due for nearly an hour yet,” she 
answered. 

To avoid the press, the coachman turned his 
horses into an unfrequented by-street, and shortly 
afterwards brought them to a stand before a door in 
a row of dismal-looking houses. I sprang out light- 


318 


LADY BARBARITY. 


ly and unconcernedly, not without a signal effort, 
though, but above all things I was resolved not to 
give one sign of weakness to the world. It annoyed 
and somewhat disconcerted me to find that a small 
company of the vulgar curious was collected about 
the coach, and more particularly when a fat and 
dirty-aproned housewife nudged a neighbour and 
exclaimed, with outstretched finger pointed straight 
at me: “That’s her! That’s her ladyship! ’aven’t 
she got a face! ” 

As I was passing through the throng, .a groom 
came up the street riding a sorrel mare. This was 
cheering in a measure, as it told me that thus far all 
arrangements were being religiously observed. 
But immediately the door was opened and then 
closed upon my entrance, and I found myself stand- 
ing with Emblem excluded from the crowd in the 
dark kitchen of the houses. I was suddenly aroused 
by a highly propitious circumstance. I was sur- 
prised to find at my side a little, very villainous- 
looking person dressed in the decent plain suit of 
an attorney, with a remarkably clean cravat, and a 
neat tie wig that somewhat softened his extremely 
wicked countenance. But at his first word, that 
came from behind his hand in a wheezing whisper, 
I felt my blood move quicker, for to my joy I identi- 
fied him as the celebrated Mr. Snark. 

“ How d’ye do. Miss! Pretty bobbish are ye? ” 
he said in my ear. “ Pretty spry upon the perch, 
eh? And I say. Miss, there’s a wonderful sweet set 
of parsons, clergymen, and etceteria assembled in 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


319 


the front. A wonderful sweet set, Miss, wiv plenty 
o’ good old ale and stingo in ’em; and on’y a hun- 
dred sojers on duty too. And who do you think’s 
the Chapling, Miss? Why, the Reverend Willum 
Vickerstaff, the drunkenest old crimp wot ever sat 
in church. By thunder. Missy, I fair envies you, I 
does, a-sittin’ at that window a-lookin’ at the mu- 
sick. I wouldn’t give fourpence for them redcoats. 
For I tell you. Missy, old Snark’s a-going to do the 
thing in style, not a-going to spare a farden of ex- 
pense, for when Snark does a thing he does it gaudy. 
By gum, won’t them blessed traps at Bow Street just 
a’ bat their eyes.” 

At that moment I think I could have taken this 
outrageous little villain in my arms and incontinent- 
ly hugged him. Instead, however, I fervently apos- 
trophised him. 

“ God requite you, Mr. Snark,” I cried, “ for a 
good man and a true.” 

I pressed him to accept a purse of fifty guineas 
over and above the sum agreed upon. 

“ No, not a blessed head,” he replied. “ Snark’s 
not a dirty screw, but a man o’ fambly and a proper 
hartiss at his work. Takes a fair pride in it, he 
does, which is the reason why his reppitation seizes 
all Bow Street by the belly.” 

Upon this the worthy creature conducted me up 
the gloomy stairs to the window that commanded 
the execution ground. The sight that then con- 
fronted me I have often met again in dreams. The 
immediate look of it was enough to produce a cold 


320 


LADY BARBARITY. 


sweat on my brow. The whole of England seemed 
already collected in that square. Tier upon tier, 
multitude on multitude, were swaying, elbowing, 
and jostling below, marvellously cheerful but aw- 
fully intent. The tall, gaunt scaffold raised upon a 
platform in their midst, with a treble file of bright- 
armed and red-coated soldiers standing round it, 
was a very lodestone that drew every face thereto. 
The blood went slow within me as I gazed at this 
fretful mass, whose heavy buzz of talk was at inter- 
vals succeeded by the brisk roaring of a pot-house 
song. The cold, grey winter morning appeared a 
proper background for this sordid scene, I thought, 
whilst the high dun-coloured houses that reared 
themselves on every side, quick with their throngs 
of eager witnesses, seemed quite in harmony with 
the horrid gloom of the tragedy so soon to be en- 
acted. 

I was still in excellent good time. The con- 
demned man was not due for a full half-hour yet. 
My invited guests were beginning to arrive, how- 
ever, but everything had been ordered excellently 
well. The room was large enough to accommodate 
two windows, and these had been removed, and sev- 
eral rows of chairs had been placed behind their 
apertures, and so skilfully arranged that twenty per- 
sons could be gratified with a view. 

The first of my kind friends to appear was a cer- 
tain Mrs. Jennings, an obese and comfortable per- 
son, with a perfect confidence in, and admiration for, 
herself. This was not assumption either, seeing 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


321 


that she had snared four different coronets for a 
corresponding number of her female progeny. She 
brought her husband too; a quite tame creature, 
whom she led about to routs and parties and called 
“ Dear Harry ” in a simpering, caressing manner. 
“ Dear Harry’s ” conversation was limited to “ ’Pon 
my soul ! ” and it was his pleasure to retire to a 
corner early and sit bolt upright on the extreme 
edge of his chair. And I think I found him to be 
the most fascinating being that I ever met, for I 
would gaze at him a desperate length of time, since 
it really seemed a miracle how such a large amount 
of man could be possibly supported by such a small 
amount of chair. This pair were pretty soon aug- 
mented by a parcel of the high grandees. The in- 
comparable Countess of Pushington minced in, a 
perfect phenomenon of youth, considering that she 
brought the youngest daughter of her second mar- 
riage with her, my Lady Crabstock Parker, who, to 
do her justice, looked really very little older than 
her adorable mamma. Mrs. Laura Wigging came, 
of course; a very whimsical, amusing mixture of 
Christianity and criticism. She was most desirous 
to drop a prayer-book, which she had brought for 
the purpose, from the window into the cart as it 
passed by. She thought it might shed a little light 
on the dark way that the dear criminal had to tread. 
The Duchess of Rabies was truly condescending 
and most affable. The men who accompanied this 
galaxy of talent, beauty, and good nature betrayed 
almost immediately, I regret to say, the exceeding 


322 


LADY BARBARITY. 


masculinity of their minds. They began at once to 
lay and to take bets regarding the number of kicks 
the sufferer would make at space before he perished. 
However the mere presence of these enemies proved 
a tonic to my nerves. Having to play a part before 
those I despised, and to combat their hostility, I 
was thereby enabled to forget in some degree the 
peculiar horror of my situation. Before ten o’clock 
the full number of guests were present, seventeen in 
all, and I could feel instinctively the zest with which 
they noted and minutely analysed my most trivial 
actions. They used a certain tone of sympathetic 
consideration towards me, which in itself was irony, 
and carefully refrained from saying a harsh or un- 
kind thing of the rebel, as if to show that they were 
fully acquainted with my exceeding tenderness to- 
wards him, and that their native delicacy would not 
permit them to distress it. They agreed with the 
sweetest unanimity that he must be a charming per- 
son. Yet it should be recorded to my eternal praise, 
I think, and as an instance of the mind’s strength 
conquering the weakness of the heart, that I received 
all these covert taunts without one betrayal of my 
secret rage. I laughed and jested with the men, and 
caressed all these dear women with my prettiest 
phrases. I do not think there was a solitary person 
present who could have divined that my very heart 
was bursting with a suppressed agony of terror. 
Snark might be as faithful as the day, all things 
might be ordered perfectly, and there be no ground 
for fear whatever; but I could not divest my mind of 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


323 


the knowledge that tens of thousands were assem- 
bled roaring and surging down below, and packed as 
thick as summer flies in a rotten carcase. I could 
not expel the grim image of the scaffold from my 
eyes, the densely populated windows, the strained 
awaiting eagerness of the mob; nor could I fail to 
hear all the sounds of portent; the deliberate slow 
tolling of the passing bell of an adjacent church, the 
striking of the hour of ten, and directly afterwards 
the new commotion that went up, as the tidings 
travelled in a murmur from mouth to mouth the 
whole length of the multitude, “ It’s coming!” 

“ Do they mean the cart, my dear? ” one dear 
creature inquired innocently of me. 

“ Yes,” said I, with animation, “ my dear Duch- 
ess, I really believe they do. We are coming to the 
fun now, are we not? ’Twill be highly entertaining 
presently.” 

The Duchess’s eyes burned in her head to dis- 
cover a flaw in the utter nonchalance of my de- 
meanour, but grievous was her disappointment. 
My bold look fairly challenged her to find one, and 
I think I can safely say that not the Duchess alone 
but this whole assembly of dear friends was cha- 
grined that I had not the consideration to regale it 
with my pain. The gruesome vehicle was already 
close at hand. It was coming at a foot pace down 
the Uxbridge Road, and the throng parted readily 
before it to let it pass. Conversation ceased now, 
and we took our seats at the windows. And I think 
it was well for me that this new diversion held the 


324 


LADY BARBARITY. 


attention of my friends, for I doubt whether, with 
my lover before my eyes, I could have kept up the 
bitter farce. Certainly, no sooner did I behold the 
slow-coming vehicle, with its pale young occupant, 
and the procession of prison officers, soldiers, the 
chaplain, and the executioner, than I had to stifle 
an involuntary cry that sprang into my throat, and 
for support was compelled to cling an instant to the 
window-sill in front. 

Even as the cart appeared, a tentative beam of 
the wintry sun struggled into the cold grey morn- 
ing. Its effect was very weird and strange upon 
that great company of expectant, upturned faces, 
gazing with a kind of rapt horror at the poor young 
creature who was to die. 

The rebel and his escort were now quite near, 
and I could see the full disposition of his features 
very plain. I looked down upon him from my van- 
tage involuntarily almost, and raked his face again 
and again with my eyes to discover one flaw in the 
perfect demeanour of my hero. And somehow as I 
looked I felt the vain pride rise in my heart, for a 
king could not have gone forth to his doom with 
more propriety. There was no hint of bravado in 
his bearing, but his head was carried nobly, without 
undue defiance and without undue humility; his 
mouth was resolute, and his eyes alert and clear. 
In all my life I never saw a man look so firm, so 
spirited, so proud. 

As he approached more nearly I discerned a 
look of expectation and inquiry on his face, and his 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


325 


eyes scanned the houses and the mob searchingly 
and quickly as though they fervently desired the 
sight of someone whom they could not see. In- 
deed, to me these questioning glances grew pain- 
fully apparent, until I remembered suddenly the 
person who had inspired them, whereon a strange 
mad happiness trembled in my blood. ’Twas then 
I forgot the world entirely — yea, even its uncharity, 
my sneering and rejoicing enemies, and the griev- 
ous comedy that I was condemned to play. I be- 
came oblivious to everything but the pitiless fact 
that the one man in the world was proceeding with 
noble simplicity and patience to his doom, and that 
I was the one of all those thousands there assem- 
bled that he craved to see. 

In an instant I jumped up and leant as far out of 
the window as I could, waving my handkerchief 
most wildly several times, and then cried out at the 
very topmost of my voice: 

“ I am here, child!- Here I am! God be with 
you, lad ! God bless you ! ” 

Such a singular stillness had taken the curious 
multitude at the apparition of the cart that my tones 
rang out clearly as a bell, and by the startled move- 
ment of a thousand heads were heard, indeed, by 
all in the vicinity. And, amongst others, the poor 
rebel heard, and swiftly looking up he saw my out- 
stretched form and my handkerchief still fluttering. 
Thereupon the blood painted his white cheeks most 
eloquent in crimson ; his face spread out in fine ani- 
mated sparkles, and he plucked off his hat and 


326 


LADY BARBARITY. 


waved it in reply. Almost immediately thereafter 
the cart was stopped and placed carefully into its 
position under the noose that dangled from the 
beam; the soldiers closed up, promptly cleared a 
convenient space, and stood in a ring with bayonets 
drawn, whilst the Sheriff, the Chaplain, the Gover- 
nor of Newgate, and various high dignitaries took 
up their stations on the scaffold. ’Twas astonish- 
ing the brisk precision with which everything was 
done. Before I could grasp the idea that the con- 
demned was actually at the point of death, the exe- 
cutioner was standing with one foot on the scaffold 
and another in the cart, tying the criminal’s hands 
behind him. At the same moment the Chaplain 
produced a greasy, black-backed tome, and began 
to mumble indistinctly the service for the dead. 
The whole matter was so fascinating that I could 
not pluck my eyes from the scene, and though I 
had a certain dim idea that some strange, vague 
power was about to intervene, for my life I could 
not have told just then what it was to be; nay, and 
should not have greatly felt the loss of it until the 
bloody drama had been played. 

All this time the mob below had been striving 
towards the scaffold, only to be forced back by the 
vigorous measures of the guard of soldiers. This, 
however, was no more than the natural eagerness 
of a crowd to procure a fuller view, and was perfect- 
ly appropriate and good-humoured on the side of 
both. But as soon as the executioner had confined 
his victim’s wrists, and was. engaged in opening his 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


327 


shirt that he might adjust the rope around his 
throat, one portion of the mob quite adjacent to the 
scaffold grew suddenly obstreperous; sticks went 
up, and cries arose. Thereupon the Sheriff and the 
officials of the prison situate upon the platform be- 
gan to behave in a most excited fashion, dancing 
and throwing their arms about and crying orders 
to the guard, whilst for the nonce the executioner 
suspended his employ. In an instant the mob be- 
gan to violently surge, oaths were screamed, and 
staves began to crack and to descend. Down went 
a redcoat, and then another; thereupon the fight 
grew general all about the cart, but it soon became 
apparent that not only were the troops outnum- 
bered, but that they were so confined and encum- 
bered in by the press that their heavy weapons 
would assist them little, as they could not force them 
into a position to be of service. And in very con- 
science the riot had started with rare decision and 
effect. A solid phalanx of lusty, well-primed 
rogues had been concentrated all on one point by 
their clever general, and the promptitude with 
which they did their business really was surprising. 
Crack! crack! smacked the cudgels, loud howled 
the mob, and down went the soldiers of the King. 
Inside a minute the ring was completely broken up, 
and the rioters had assumed entire control of the 
scaffold and the cart, whilst the guard was so hope- 
lessly disordered that their coats of red appeared in 
twenty isolated places amongst a throng, which, to 
do it justice, certainly did its best to restrict them 


328 


LADY BARBARITY. 


in every way it could. Its sympathies, as usual, 
were by no means on the side of the law. Pretty 
soon half a dozen rioters were mishandling the cart 
and freeing its pinioned occupant. One cut the 
cords that bound him, a second pressed a slave into 
his liberated fist, a third engaged in a hand-to-hand 
encounter with the executioner; a fourth struck at 
the Sheriff, who was highly valiant and active for an 
alderman, missed him and hit the inoffensive chap- 
lain, and “ tapped the claret ” of the reverend gen- 
tleman, whose bottle-nose must have been really 
very difficult to avoid. Twas quite exhilarating to 
witness the glorious conduct of it all. Everything 
seemed to be performed like clock-work, and with 
incredible brutality and zest. Had I been unable to 
realise the exceeding brilliancy of the tactics that 
were adopted throughout the whole affair, certain 
observations of the presiding genius must have 
made me do so. For to round and finish the mat- 
ter in a consummate way, no sooner had the fight 
begun than I became conscious that Mr. Snark had 
cleft through the throng of fashionables about me, 
and was standing at my side, emitting a stream of 
counsel, criticism, and encouragement. 

“Got ’em on a hook!” he cried. “That’s it, 
Parker; hit! Give ’em pepper! Hit that fat hulk 
of a Sheriff over the bleeding hat! Very nice in- 
deed.” 

Mr. Snark rubbed his hands with satisfaction. 
Meantime down below, the inevitable consequence 
had followed the flowing blood and the free ex- 


I COME TO TYBURN TREE. 


329 


change of blows. The guard had entirely lost con- 
trol of the crowd collected about the scaffold, which 
immediately seized its opportunity of getting even 
with the law. Not only did it offer the rebel and 
his escort every facility to escape, but was at equal 
pains to impede the soldiers, the Sheriff, and the 
officials of the gaol in their efforts to arrest the con- 
demned man’s flight. And this they succeeded very 
well in doing. A bodyguard of hard-hitting rogues 
formed about the rescued rebel and hurried him at 
a double through the friendly mob, that gave way 
right gallantly before them. 

It made me almost wild with joy to behold my 
young lover and his company of sturdy dogs cleave 
through the kind-intentioned press till they came in 
safety to the door of the very house in which I was. 
At the moment that he approached the threshold, 
I wheeled about, and almost overturned a lord 
as I ran from the chamber and darted down the 
stairs. His liberators, faithful to the implicit in- 
structions of Mr. Snark, had already got him in the 
house. 

There was a great press of people on his heels 
pouring in through the open door as I came down 
the stairs. However, I was able to breast my pro- 
gress through the throng, and fervently clasp my 
intrepid lover’s hand. 

“ Quick! quick! ” I whispered. “ Do not dally. 
Get through to the back. A horse awaits you. Do 
not draw rein till you are at the ‘White Hart,’ 
Dover. Here’s a purse to meet your needs; and 


330 


LADY BARBARITY. 


here is Mr. Snark. Heed every word of his in- 
structions. Good-bye, lad, and God go with you ! ” 

Straightway Mr. Snark stepped forth, and led 
his charge to where the horse awaited him, whilst 
as he did so, he threw a cloak about his shoulders, 
and poured a volume of instructions into his recep- 
tive ear. And with such alacrity was the full affair 
accomplished that the soldiers were yet wrestling 
with the mob, and I had barely time to reascend 
the stairs, and withdraw with divers of my friends 
to an adjacent chamber which commanded a view 
of Piper’s Alley instead of Tyburn Tree, ere the 
rebel was on his horse, and fleeing through London 
for his life. It seemed that there was also a second 
horse in readiness, and he who mounted it was no 
less a person than the celebrated Mr. Snark. ’Twas 
he that accompanied my dearest Anthony. 

“There he goes!” cries I to my- dear friend 
Hilda Flummery as the sorrel’s hoofs rang out upon 
the stones. “There goes my future husband! 
He’ll be in France before to-morrow.” 

“ Your future what, dear Bab? ” cries she. 

“ My future husband, dear,” says I, demurely. 

All who heard shook their heads, of course, or 
smiled broadly at the jest that they chose to call it. 
But they were not aware that I had made my mind 
up on this point, and I have writ a little epilogue 
to this strange memoir of my wooing to prove to 
those who may not know, how formidable I do be- 
come when I make my mind up on any point so- 
ever. 


EPILOGUE. 

If one only have beauty, wealth, station, and 
understanding, and withal a general air of triumph, 
all things are possible. Kings are really very rea- 
sonable persons, and Governments, well — Govern- 
ments have been known to be amenable if handled 
with discretion. I am spurred to these wise re- 
marks by the singular nature of rny case, for on 
July 2nd, 1747, I was wedded to my Anthony at the 
Church of St. Sepulchre, in the City of London. No 
fewer than five members of the Privy Council em- 
bellished that ceremony with their presence, one of 
whom was there to represent his Most Gracious 
Majesty the King. Now at that time the family 
swore upon their souls that they would not forgive 
me for it; but it is here my privilege to place on 
record that they have done so very handsomely, 
for, under my tuition, I make bold to say that my 
dearest Anthony has become the brightest orna- 
ment that our house has known. His excellent 
good wit, and the brightness of his natural parts, 
have won for him a place in the history of this realm, 
as from the first I had predicted. But doubtless he 
22 331 


332 


LADY BARBARITY. 


is better known to you and to the world as the 
celebrated Duke of B , a man of conspicuous tal- 

ents, aI^d princely virtues; perfect father, devoted 
husband, wise councillor, and the faithful servant of 
a country that once condemned him to be hanged. 




THE END. 


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